To Eat Crow
by GrenGren Alley
Summary: In a building across a sea of dying vines, the Atlanta group found two survivors far from home. Desperation leads them to help one other. Mistrust leads them to question one another. Sometimes, the world has to end for a life to begin. Slightly AU, in that Shane is still alive. Daryl/OC
1. At Death's Door

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**Chapter One: At Death's Door**

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It began with a can of coffee.

Of all the days the world could have ended, it chose to do so on a Sunday. Religious people might have said it was some kind of divine sign that God was angry, while more skeptical people would say it was some kind of flu gone wrong. There were, of course, the conspiracy theorists who thought it was a government project released into the public. But for three traveling self-proclaimed explorers, it was simply a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. What came after, the carnage and the battle for survival, those were things they were bound to face sooner or later. Fate just decided to give them a little head start.

**-x-x-x-x-x-**

A cobalt blue SUV sped down an empty Atlanta roadway, far exceeding the speed limit and blurring the stylized tribal rat emblazoned on the side. While the logo was a pretty garish choice, one no self-respecting Georgian would be caught dead displaying, it wouldn't be seen at all with the asphalt being torn up as the vehicle sped along. There was not a car in sight, but even if there were it was doubtful the SUV would have slowed down anyway.

Music blared loudly in the cabin, adding to the cliché of a likely idiotic driver whom one might label as a "douchebag." Windows rolled down, bass all the way up, the frame of the vehicle shook to the beat of Cotton Eyed Joe. Singing along to the tune, and definitely giving off the air of one such "douchebag" (complete with polarized sunglasses and gel-spiked hair), the driver was quickly putting himself on the passengers' top ten list of people to murder painfully.

"Victor!" yelled the girl in the seat next to his. "Can you pipe down? I can't hear myself think. And don't you think that song choice is a little bit inappropriate considering where we are?"

"That's awfully racist of you, Vi," the driver stopped belting out long enough to answer the girl. "Just having a good time with some good music."

Vi snorted and rolled her eyes. The song was sung by someone called Rednex, for crying out loud. But whether the song was racist or not really didn't matter to her.

"It's not really the music that's the problem," a third voice finally piped up. "It's your singing that's making our ears bleed."

The driver shut his trap instantly and turned down the music to a barely-tolerable crackle. The two passengers all but cried in relief.

"Shut it, Pieces," he said, chucking an empty coke bottle into the back seat. The girl beside him snickered loudly. "You too, Vi."  
With that, he turned his eyes back to the road and cranked the music again, much to the irritation of the young man known as "Pieces" (His real name was actually Reese. He would forever resent Victor for the hated nickname and in fact often plotted his murder) and the girl called Vi, the latter of whom slapped herself hard on the forehead.

The music was not to stop, playing on an infernal loop, until they pulled into a grocery parking lot later.

It was a stereotypical situation they found themselves in, having exited the vehicle in order to restock on batteries and pick up a few other items that would be necessary to the last leg of their trip.

It was not flight from another city that brought the trio to Atlanta in the first place, but the promise of exploration. Georgia had been the last stop on the way back to Seattle for the beginning of fall classes and the return to life's monotony. While others had chosen the waves of California or the snowy alpine slopes for their summer vacation, there was no place the three would rather be than in the bowels of the earth, in a dusty room of an abandoned hospital, or knee-deep in graffiti and discarded hypodermics at a warehouse. Urban Exploration was like a drug and, once started, a habit impossible to drop.

Thus, when Victor disengaged the engine and slammed his door shut, none of them had any clue what they were getting themselves into.

The first clue that something was amiss should have come in the form of the empty lot. Yes, there were cars, but the grocery lacked any of the outside activity that usually came with a busy locale. But Victor just assumed the place might have been closed. The sign on the door said otherwise, so with an uncaring shrug he let the automatic doors whoosh open.

The second clue that something was amiss was much more obvious.  
The place had been absolutely decimated.  
Packages were torn open, the deli's meat and cheese cases had been broken open, much of the contents missing. Shelves nearby were overturned, jars and bottles shattered all over. They could smell the potent vinegary odor of pickle juice, along with something considerably nastier. It reeked of partly rotted carrots and roast pork.  
Not a single soul wandered the aisles, and not a soul stood behind the registers.

"Shit!" Reese spoke up. "What happened here? Where the hell are the cops?"

Both males turned towards the lone female of the group, who had stooped down to pick up a pack of fallen batteries, and several others. Catching their eyes, she turned and pointed towards the end of aisle three. There, a woman in a floral sundress was hobbling slowly towards the group. Spittle and blood dribbled down the front of her pale, mottled skin and a black film seemed to cover a large wound on her leg.

"Well, we apparently just walked onto the set of a B-horror movie," Vi pointed out. "That's some damn good makeup. Hey Pieces, did you know they were filming something down this way?"

Reese, on the other hand, was a bit more convinced of what he was seeing.

There was no doubt in his mind that as soon as he moved, he'd be accosted by something unnatural, hellbent on chewing his face off. He'd seen enough crappy Sci-Fi flicks on late at night to garner an active enough imagination to believe it. He began to grow anxious as the woman hobbled nearer.  
So when the woman attacked, lunging at Victor before any of them could properly prepare themselves, he'd already compartmentalized his disbelief.

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A/N: Hello everyone! Yes, here I am with yet another story. I'm worse than an ADD squirrel in a roomful of nuts. Don't worry though; if it's an active story, it's not getting abandoned. I think I'll have fun with this one; zombies and horror are my secret loves. This first chapter feels a bit weird, but we'll get more into gear next time around, and the aforementioned coffee can will come into play. Til next time!


	2. Babes in the Woods

Note: this story follows the timeline of the television show, with the exception of the fact that Shane is still alive. The story acknowledges that the nighttime confrontation still happened, but that Rick and Shane decided to walk away and, as Rick suggested "pretend it never happened." This decision to violate cannon will obviously create even more tension within the group, and also serves the purpose of developing the stories of some of the cannon characters more. This takes place approximately two weeks after the farm is overrun (three months after the events of the last chapter) and Rick confesses that the virus is not transmitted by bite.

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**Chapter Two: Babes in the Woods**

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It was just their luck that supplies would run low yet again. Rick sighed and ran a hand roughly through his hair as Shane confronted him in the morning with a report on the group's inventory.

No medicine left, food was dwindling as always, and there was a severe shortage of ammunition shared by the entirety of the group. While Rick realized that Shane doing the dirty work of taking inventory was a way of trying to mend the rift that had formed between them, things were still extremely tense since their confrontation at the farm, and it would take some time to learn to trust him again. He still had nightmares about what he had almost done, the best friend he had nearly gutted. He could remember vividly the words he said to his oldest friend that night.

"There is still a way back from this. Nothing has happened here. We're gonna lay down our guns, walk back to the farm together. Back to Lori. Back to Carl. Put this all behind us."

Rick had been utterly shocked when Shane had listened to him and lowered his gun. He'd been so certain that he'd have to kill him. Something had brought Shane back to his senses, even for that one moment, and though Rick had no idea what that might have been, he was grateful.

Nowadays, they hardly spoke unless it was necessary. Their friendship had been greatly shaken, and hearing the news of the supplies from his mouth was sort of like adding insult to injury.

Worse though, was that they'd have to go on another supply run. Too many narrow encounters with other sparse survivor groups and herds of Walkers had occurred in the immediate area. The camp was in a tentative position; the threat of invasion by other groups was ever-looming, and the Walkers seemed to be around every corner. Supply runs could no longer be carried out nearby, instead having to be done an increasing distance from the camp.

Besides the threats, the nearby resources had already been run dry.

Rick thanked Shane stiffly and moved to gather the group together in order to deliver the bad news.

"Alright everyone. I know we've had some tough times since leaving the farm, but we've always banded together to get through it. I'm not happy about what I'm about to tell you, but just hear me out, alright?"

"Rick? What's wrong?" Lori seemed anxious. She'd been on edge since he'd returned from the confrontation at night. They all were, jumping at shadows now that the relative safety of Hershel's expansive acres and sturdy farmhouse were no longer there. He hadn't told Lori about that night yet. He didn't have it in him to shatter what little faith she still had left.

"I'm just gonna be straight with you all. We need to do another supply run."

Murmurs of dissent broke out amongst the group, shock and horror clear on their faces.

"Another one? We just went three days ago though!" Glenn pointed out from his seat next to Maggie.

"We did," Rick agreed. "but we didn't get much off that trip, and what we did manage to find has been used up already."

"...so what are we low on?" Carol asked quietly. The tremble in her voice betrayed the anxiety they were all feeling.

Rick saw it in all their faces; they were waiting for him to drop a bomb. He decided it would just be merciful to get it out.

"...pretty much everything," Shane spoke for him. "Ammunition. Food of course. Been using a lot of clothing for mend-jobs and other things."

"So who's gonna go?" Lori asked. They had all resigned themselves to what was going to have to happen.

"We'll do it how we always do. I'll take volunteers. And I'm going this time around."

Glenn stood up almost right away.

"I'll go. I know some places a little further out that might still have something."

Rick nodded, trusting the boy to get them there without incident.

"Hell, I'll go too," Daryl spoke from beside the empty firepit. "Ain't much else to do 'sides hunting, and the woods round here are pretty much empty now."

No one had to ask to understand what he meant. The woods had been abundant and full of prey before, but with the influx of Walkers, even natural resources were tight.

"Glad to have you on board."

"Mind if I join in?" Hershel wearily stood from his own seat with Beth. "Know I haven't been with before, but I may as well pull my weight somehow. All of us should experience the process sooner or later."

"You sure you can handle it, old man?" Daryl asked him.

"Like I said, there's no sense in sitting around when I could be doing something useful. No one here's gotten hurt in a while, and I should be there to point out what medical supplies we need."

"Alright," Rick said. "we'll give you a turn. You know the drill for these things, I assume."

"Yep. No need to remind me, son."

"Alright. That's four of us. That'll do fine. The rest of you, keep yourselves safe. Shane, can you keep an eye on things here?"

The man gave a curt nod, expression appropriately serious. He too was haunted by that night. It was plain to see. Rick was taking a huge risk, not to mention a leap of faith, in giving the task to Shane. If he stayed, there was a risk he'd take off with his family, or do something else to endanger the camp. If he went on the expedition, there was a chance he'd lead them astray, or betray them and take off with the supplies. He really wasn't sure if he should trust him, but he didn't have much of a choice. Shane knew that too. The sheriff had been crystal clear that they no longer shared the close bond they had before.

At least where Lori and Carl were concerned, he knew Shane wouldn't abandon them. Honestly, he'd have preferred if Daryl had stayed behind. With the Dixon brother around, Shane wouldn't try anything too stupid, since Daryl knew all about Shane's secrets. He had been the one to figure out the truth of Randall's death, and he'd told Rick his suspicions about Otis' death too. But Daryl would be an asset to the expedition, and he was glad to have him along. He would just have to give Shane the benefit of the doubt, and deal with the consequences later on. Even if that meant another near-death experience in confronting him.

"We'll leave in twenty minutes. Everyone stay safe."

Lori sprung to her feet and quickly approached her husband as the rest of the survivors broke off again. Throwing her arms around him, she held back tears as she bid him farewell.

"You keep yerself safe at least, hear me?"

"Yeah. I hear you. I'll do all I can to get back to you and Carl."

"Don't forget about this little one," Lori moved his hand to settle on her still-flat belly. "Don't you dare do anything stupid out there, Richard Grimes."

"I promise."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The group didn't find anything in the immediate area, as expected. Taking a few of Glenn's suggestions had yielded a little bit of ammunition, but not enough to keep the group going. They'd have to make another stop. It was becoming clear that they'd have to go out of their way. If they had to go too far, they risked not being able to return to the camp until the next day. The other risk with going further out was that Glenn didn't know the area just beyond the city limits. They had to make a decision quickly. It wouldn't do to return to the camp empty-handed.

"S'that there?" Daryl pointed something out when they had reached an area about an hour from the camp at Elder's Mill. They had gone a long way, and were pretty closely nestled in the southeastern part of Atlanta. They hadn't wanted to return to the city proper, but the area was still pretty far from the more densely populated areas.

Slowing down, Rick saw what Daryl had spotted. Nestled among some brush was a cobalt blue Escalade. Only the bumper was visible, along with a corner of the vehicle displaying a tail light. It was pretty well hidden, actually. He was surprised the man had spotted it at all. Pulling Hershel's Suburban over into the brush, the group exited the vehicle to survey the find. With any luck, there would be some supplies (anything would have been a good find, really) inside. Daryl took the lead, pulling aside the low branches and kudzu that grew in clumps around the SUV. There wasn't anyone inside, and the windows were intact. There was a pretty ugly rat design on the side though, he noted.

"Clear," he called to the others. He tried the handle on the driver's side, met with resistance as the door refused to open. "Well, shit."

"What?" Glenn questioned.

"Damn thing's locked up. Any luck with the other doors?"

The others tried a door each. Nothing.

"Shit," Rick spat. "What're we supposed to do? Breakin' the window will bring Walkers right to us."

"If it's locked up, doesn't that mean it wasn't abandoned? What if the owner's nearby?" Glenn pointed out.

"That could be bad news for us, kid," Hershel replied. "Looks like this place is a bust too."

"Hold on now," Rick held up a hand. "What's that on the side there?"

Daryl pulled back the kudzu again to reveal the design.

"Mute Rat? The hell's that?"

"Gang?" Glenn suggested.

"Never seen a gang member drive something like this," Daryl retorted. "'Sides, plates say Seattle. What kinda idiot would come all the way down here from there?"

"...something's off here. Maybe there're other survivors here after all. No other vehicles in sight, so there can't be too many, but let's keep quiet anyway," the sheriff advised.

Giving up on the Escalade, the four decided to survey the area around it. The entire area was encompassed in the kudzu and other weeds, a couple of rooftops visible in the distance. It would have been a good place to hide out, most likely. This little fact put the group on edge. If there was someone there, they had no idea what kind of people they were or where they could be lurking. They remained on high alert as they approached the buildings. It was eerily quiet, only the sounds of the birds to greet them. While this was a welcome change from the snarls of hungry Walkers, something didn't feel right about it. But maybe they were just on edge from the last couple of weeks. The place looked overgrown enough that it must have been emptied out a long time before the outbreak happened.

"Shit!" Glenn's voice broke the silence as he tripped over something amongst the kudzu. Daryl seized his arm roughly to keep him from falling.

"Keep it quiet, Chinaman!" he hissed.

"For god's sake, I'm Korean!" Glenn hissed back. "And sorry! There're holes in the pavement under here. Got my foot in one of 'em."

"Watch yourself," Daryl warned him. "The last thing we need's a buncha Walkers on our asses because you can't keep your mouth shut."

"Oh, shit!"

"Didn't I just tell ya to shut up?"

"It's a bit late for that."

Walkers. Four of them, all adult males by the look of it, approached from the road. Not skipping a beat, Daryl loaded up a crossbow bolt and took aim at the closest one. Realizing his folly, he lowered the weapon immediately. There was no sense in wasting an arrow when there was still so much distance between them. They were ready though, weapons out and raised. None of them wanted to risk the noise or waste the ammunition, so they waited for a moment, just to see if the Walkers were actually aware of their presence.

They were.

The lead Walker snarled and broke into a run, making a beeline directly for Glenn. He turned in a panic, catching his foot in another hole. Daryl hauled him out of it.

"Get it into gear, kid!" he rasped at him, giving him a shove in the direction of the buildings. Great, this was just what they needed.

The younger man didn't need telling twice, breaking into a full run alongside the others. Another hole covered by the kudzu snagged his foot, sending him sprawling to the ground in a flailing movement.

"Come on boy, get up!" Daryl commanded, seizing him by the back of the shirt. "Oh, shit!"

"What is it? We have to go!" Hershel reminded him. He watched as the redneck hauled Glenn up, clear off his feet and swung him around. The young man's knife, which he had taken out in lieu of a gun, was lodged three inches deep into his thigh. During his fall, he must have landed with his arm underneath him, falling onto his own weapon.

"Can you treat him?" Rick asked, catching up to the three.

Hershel cast a quick glance behind them, where the Walkers were gaining ground. He slung one of Glenn's arms over his shoulder, while Rick took hold of the other. This freed Daryl to take a shot at the closest Walker, dropping it instantly.

"I only got two arrows on me. Better do somethin' fast."

"I can't do anything for him here!" Hershel said.

Quickly, Rick scanned the area near them for some sort of shelter. A little distance away, he spotted the edge of a white building peeking out from the overgrown vegetation. Squinting, he could make out the outline of an entrance.

"There!" he pointed to his find. "Let's get him over there quick!"

Lifting Glenn easily between the two of the, the veterinarian and the sheriff ran ahead to the building, hoping that the door would be unlocked. Daryl took up the rear, firing another bolt and taking out a second Walker. It took only a minute to reach the entrance, which was mercifully open. An old lock hung to the side, which quickly clicked shut to secure the barred gate. Undead hands stretched through the bars, teeth gnashing as they tried and failed to reach their living prey within. The group proceeded into the darkness, dragging their injured companion deeper into the unknown building.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Glenn did everything he could not to cry out in pain at the knife embedded in his flesh. He gave it a truly valiant effort, but when the two men carting him around attempted to haul him up a flight of stairs towards some source of light, he couldn't take it anymore. He yelled loudly, tears of agony springing to his eyes. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, the rate increasing as he panicked. Was he going to die? What would happen to Maggie? How would they get back like this?

Hershel gently shushed him as he and Rick laid him out on the stairwell. They were only halfway up, but if they didn't do something for the young man fast, infection would set in or he could bleed out.

"Damnit! I warned the kid to watch himself!" Daryl yelled.

"Calm down," Rick reminded him. "We don't need to draw attention if there's Walkers in here too."

"Shut the hell up! It's no use now!" the man snapped back. "With that gate shut we might as well have thrown ourselves to the Walkers. How are we gonna get back now, huh?"

"Shh! I just heard something! Will you please keep it down?" Rick pleaded.

"To hell with that! We shouldn'ta come here in the first goddamn place!"

But Daryl halted a moment later as he heard a shuffling noise from the top of the staircase. Readying his last arrow, he pointed it at the source of the noise. He expected the worst as the shuffling grew louder, but was surprised to hear voices.

"Never heard one make _that_ much noise, Reese," a female's voice.

"Yeah, I guess. The dead don't generally _yell_ so much," a young male voice agreed. They guessed the second voice probably belonged to this Reese person. They didn't sound aggressive, but none of the group let their guard down.

"Come on out!" Rick snapped, brandishing his gun and joining Daryl in pointing at the top of the stairs.

"Whoa whoa, who called in the cavalry?" the female's voice again.

"Don't look at me," the male answered.

"I'll give you to the count of ten." Rick pulled back the hammer, ready to confront whoever or whatever was coming down the stairs at them. He was surprised when the owners of the voices showed themselves right away. The male voice belonged to a young man who looked to be in his late teens or early twenties, while the female voice belonged to a woman who looked a little bit older.

"No need for that," the girl assured him. "I doubt we can do much damage to you with flashlights."

The group took in their appearances quickly to check for any sort of danger. The girl had been telling the truth, they were unarmed from what could be seen. The light from the top of the staircase lit them up enough so that it was obvious they were dressed lightly for the summer heat. Practical hiking boots and jeans were donned by both, and each wore a black T-shirt emblazoned with the same rat design from outside on the SUV.

"You those Mute Rat people?" Daryl didn't lower his crossbow.

"We are. Take it you found Blue then? Shit, don't tell me you broke into it."

"No," the sheriff answered. "The noise would have drawn the Walkers. Not that it mattered..."

"Caught their attention anyway?" Reese asked. At Rick's grim nod, the duo on the stairs noticed the young Asian man laying on the stairwell.

"Whoa! What happened?" the woman rushed forward instantly, stopped by Daryl's crossbow pointed directly at her face.

"Fell on his knife while we were running. We dragged him here, but..."

"Shit! Tell me you didn't pull it out?"

"No," Hershel spoke.

"Good thing you didn't. He would have bled out by now if you had."

"You know a thing or two about knife wounds?" Hershel inquired.

"Yeah. Before the shit hit the fan three months ago, I was starting an internship at Virginia Mason back home. Didn't even get to go to my first day."

"You _actually_ know about this sort of thing?" Rick interrupted.

"I think all the time I spent practicing draws would say yes."

"Please," Glenn moaned from his place on the stairwell. "Can't take it much longer."

"Oh yes you can, kid. You there, you have supplies?" the girl asked Hershel. He frowned and shook his head.

"I do. Reese, you go get them, will you?" she looked to Rick. "Now then, how about your friend there puts down his weapon, and in exchange I'll try to help the kid there?"

"Sounds like a plan," Rick lowered his own gun, and motioned for Daryl to do the same.

"I don't like this. I say we can't trust 'em."

"Kill me after then." The redneck seemed reluctant, lowering his weapon with a sneer.

"Right. That's a bit better." The young woman crouched down next to Glenn, examining the knife in his leg as Reese quickly ran back upstairs to retrieve her supplies. "We'll deal with the introductory crap later. For now, all you need to know is that this is going to hurt a hell of a lot. First things first, I need to know if the knife was serrated."

"'S a hunting knife," Daryl pointed out harshly.

"Yes then," the young woman sighed. "That makes this a bit trickier than I'd like. I'll need you to hold his leg still."

Rick moved to do as she said, but Daryl kept glaring at her, hands still on his weapon.

"Do you want him to bleed to death?" Reese snapped at him as he handed over the supply bag to his companion.

"Come on Daryl. Just cooperate with them. We'll grill 'em later," the sheriff coaxed. Grumbling, the redneck finally complied, holding down Glenn's leg below the wound.

The four watched as the woman opened the large duffel bag, shocked to find it stocked full to the brim. She rummaged around in it for a minute before finding a pair of gloves and snapped them on.

"OH god, what is she doing? She's not gonna cut it off, is she?" Glenn sounded panicked.

"Relax, kid. I'm not cutting off anything. Just getting a better look. It doesn't look like it went through more than muscle and fat, but there's a chance it nicked an artery. You're bleeding pretty bad. We're gonna have to pull this out..._slowly_," she emphasized. "I'm gonna remove it a little bit at a time, and your friends here are going to have to apply a lot of pressure as I go to keep you from bleeding out. It won't be fun, but you've gotta endure it. Think you can do that, kid?"

Glenn slowly nodded his head. "I think so...Where did you get all of this?"

"Personal stash," she answered nonchalantly. "Reese, you got something for him to bite down on?"

"Right here, Vivi."

She took the procured bit of cloth from her companion and gave it to Glenn before reaching into the bag at her side to produce a couple of bigger pieces to hand to the men holding him down.

"Here, when I say so, press down as hard as you can on either side of the wound," she instructed.

"Vivi?" Rick questioned.

"Nickname. Worry about it later," she replied. "Go!"

The men did as asked and pushed hard, using their cloths to keep from slipping in Glenn's blood. Vivi wrapped another cloth around the knife's handle for grip and began to slowly extract the knife from the young man's leg. The pain was even worse than before, and the poor kid screamed into the gag in his mouth as she finally pulled the metal out and let it fall to the floor with a loud clink.

"Don't let go of him," she warned the men. "Now comes the fun part."

With another large square of cloth, she pressed directly over the wound to soak up as much blood as possible, then pulled out a spray bottle from the bag and soaked the wound directly with peroxide. Glenn continued to scream and clench his teeth around the cloth in his mouth, barely holding onto consciousness as she blotted the wound again and took a look.

"Looks like he got lucky," Hershel remarked. "No extra bleeding."

"You're right," the woman replied. "You guys can let up a little now. The worst is over, kid, now all that's left to do is stitch you up. You almost did a number on yourself."

Glenn seemed calmer then, no longer writhing in pain or muffling screams. He breathed heavily though, removing the cloth to suck in huge gulps of clean air. The other three watched with interest as Reese helped the woman suture the wound shut with a curved needle before finally sitting back. How the heck were these people so prepared, and just what was "Mute Rat" anyway? It was Daryl who decided to ask that which would be asked inevitably.

"Just who the hell are ya people?"

"Urbex. Urban Explorers," Reese said quickly.

The other four stared at him for a long moment.

"...the hell is that?"

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Ending Note: Still no sign of that coffee mentioned in chapter one. Will the enigmatic caffeine source ever be explained? Yes. Along with answers to the following questions: What the hell is Vivi short for? How did they find so many good supplies? And why "Mute Rat?" All will come to make sense next time.


	3. A Bitter Pill

Note: Hope you're enjoying the story, everyone. What do you think so far? Some feedback would be appreciated, but a lack thereof isn't going to stop me from writing. Let's move right along now, shall we?

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**Chapter Three: A Bitter Pill **

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The Atlanta group stared at the two newcomers for what felt like a long time. Trust, and whether or not to give it, was the main issue. They had only just met these people, and only knew the name of one of them. Neither of them seemed dangerous, but appearances had been deceiving in the past. How well did Rick really know everyone in his group, for instance? So-called good men had turned a complete 180 since the start of it all. On the other hand, Daryl put up a tough front and could be a major asshole, but had continuously displayed good traits. Looking at the people in front of them, it was hard to classify them by sight alone. So Rick decided to get to the heart of the matter.

"As you can expect, we have some questions for you two."

"Go for it," Vivi replied calmly.

"First of all, are there others here too?"

"Others? Nah, just the two of us. I doubt anyone would know of this place except for maybe junkies or homeless. Place has been abandoned for a long time," Reese answered.

"There was one other in our group," Vivi offered. "But we got separated about a month and a half ago. Reese and I haven't seen anybody else except for you guys and the Deadites."

"Deadites?" Glenn furrowed an eyebrow. With a name like "Mute Rat," was "Deadite" another name for a group like theirs?

"Those...things outside. Got the name from the Evil Dead movies," the male explained.

"Ohh," Glenn laughed, despite himself. "We call 'em Walkers."

"Hell of a lot less stupid-sounding than 'Deadites.'" Vivi snorted, casting Reese a 'told-you-so' look. "You're such a fuckin nerd, Pieces."

"Second question," this time it was Daryl who spoke, annoyance lacing his tone. "What the hell's with the shitty nicknames?"

"They _are_ shitty," Reese muttered bitterly. "My name's Reese Holloway. This here is Violet Wilkens, Vivi for short."

The woman looked horrified for one brief moment, like she didn't want to have her name known. She glanced frantically around the group, gauging their reactions before relaxing. It didn't go unnoticed, and all three of the older men stared at her a moment longer, but no one said anything. However, it made them wary.

"So...why Pieces?" Glenn asked.

"You know, Reese's Pieces? Like the candy?"

"Fine. Third question. What are you doing down here all the way from a place like Seattle?" It was Rick who spoke.

"Told you we're Urban Explorers, right? The three of us, Vivi and I, and the guy we got separated from, call...called ourselves Mute Rat. It doesn't really mean anything. It's kind of like a band name. Anyway, what we do is visit abandoned places all over and document our expeditions. It's like...rediscovering things other people left behind. I was the one who came up with the idea to form the group."

"We would post our documentaries on our blog with a site called Underverse. Journals, videos, pictures, stuff like that. It was just a hobby of ours before all this. Reese here came up with the idea to come to Georgia. He's kind of the brains behind the whole thing."

"What's that make you? Tagalong chick?" Daryl quipped.

"Camerawoman," Violet countered. "I taped the documentaries and shot the pictures. This place here was actually one of the locations Reese had researched for us to explore. We headed here after the incident with our other group member and have been holed up ever since."

"Just what is this place?" Hershel decided to ask. "Is it secure? Are there other ways out?"

"You locked the gate to the lobby, didn't you?" Reese asked, getting a nod in answer. "No big deal. There are a bunch of other ways out of here. This is a Prison Farm. All the features of both, benefits of neither. According to what I researched, a fire tore through here a few years ago. It had already been abandoned before then so officials decided to just let it be. It burned out, but took out the roof of the second floor."

Reese gestured up towards the source of light, where the duo had come from.

"Back in the '40's, prisoners here used to tend to crops and raise livestock to feed fellow inmates. Guess it was some sort of 'learn your independence' idea that spurred it. The place was used to bury animals from the zoo too, ones too big to cremate. There's supposedly an elephant called Maude buried here. Seemed like a pretty popular spot for Urbex, so I'm a little surprised no one else was here when we arrived. Guess in all the 'world going to hell' and all, people just forgot about it."

"That worked in our favor though," Violet added. "Can't imagine fighting for space here. It's a decent spot. Walkers avoid it, cause they can't find anything living. In all our time here, we've only had three incidences with them. Reese says the kudzu's edible, and there are still a few plants that grow from when the place was used as a farm. It's overgrown outside so no one really comes looking this way. It's not too secure though. The roof on the second floor being open exposes us to all kinds of crap. All the gates are rusted and most of the padlocks are gone. This place had been rotting for so long that anyone or anything could just walk through whenever."

"Part of the charm," her partner added.

Rick sat back to take in what he'd been told. They were pretty young, these two, the girl being in her mid twenties at the latest. He doubted they were lying, but he didn't know if it was worth it to risk believing them. He needed some sort of proof of what they were saying, other than their word and the Seattle license plate outside. And there were still questions, ones whose answers could either harm or benefit his own group. Daryl could see the wheels turning in Rick's head, could see that he was considering taking the duo with them. He didn't like the idea one little bit.

"So how is it you two are so well outfitted for living out here in this place?" Hershel decided to drop the bomb.

Violet shrugged.

"Doing what we do, sometimes you camp out in the wild for days on end. Other days, you'll be deep in the dark in some mine with exits an hour away. You have to be ready for that sort of thing. This here," she gestured at the duffel. "It really is mostly mine. I had a bunch of this stuff on hand for expeditions. On our way out of the city, we found a drugstore that had been evacuated and took our chances there. It was risky as hell. Walkers were all over the place, and it looked like someone had tried the same thing as us. Reese distracted them while I got inside and topped off our supplies. It was a shot in the dark, for sure."

"Why take such a huge risk?" Rick asked.

"Reese was hurt pretty bad. He got a nasty gash on his head, so he had to decide if it was worse to bleed to death or be torn apart. We're just lucky as hell that it worked out for us. We almost died there."

The group knew fully well what that kind of situation had felt like. It was the reason they were in the Prison Farm now, why Glenn was hurt, and why they were talking to the pair now. They needed supplies just as badly, something the two seemed to have. Violet eyed them warily, as if she knew what they were thinking. She exchanged a look with her partner, who merely shrugged.

"I'm guessing the four of you came out here because of similar reasons. I think we can help each other. If you guys found this place it's only a matter of time before someone else does. We can't risk staying here-"

"And we can't risk takin you along with us."

Violet's head snapped up, meeting the glare of the man who had pointed the crossbow at her face.

"There ain't a hair on ya we can trust, even if you helped the kid here. And we _don't _need more mouths to feed."

"In case it wasn't obvious, we survived this long by ourselves, so we don't need you to feed us," Violet hissed. "We have supplies, you're obviously in need. We're laying it all out here, taking a risk. We've told you everything there is to know about us, and you're still pointing fingers at us like we're criminals?"

"You haven't told us shit. What about the other guy you said was with you, huh? What happened to him?"

"We told you. We were separated."

"Nuh-uh. That ain't a good enough answer. You're hidin' something, now spill it."

The two explorers shrunk back from the angry Dixon for a moment, mulling it over with matching frowns. The woman worried her bottom lip with her teeth, anxiously popping her knuckles. Her companion put a comforting hand on her shoulder and nodded. He would tell the story for her.

"Fine. You really want to know? Have it your way. There _was _another guy with us, Victor Nash, but we left him behind at a house in the city."

Anger boiled in Daryl's veins at those words. They had no idea, of course, that they had done the exact same thing that Rick had done to his brother. Thoughts of Merle and images of the severed hand on the rooftop flashed in his mind, making him growl in anger. An arm flashed forward, fingers closing around Reese's throat.

"Told ya we can't trust 'em!"

"Hey! Get your hands off of him!"

"Daryl! Let him go!"

"You sorry excuses for people shoulda just stayed upstairs if you knew what was good for ya!" Daryl shouted, squeezing tighter. Hershel and Rick moved forward to try and pull him away.

"Stop! You're going to kill him!" Rick tried to wrench his fingers away from the boy's throat.

"How would that be any different from what they did?"

"Stop! We only left him behind because we had to! We HAD a reason!" Violet sounded panicked.

"What reason could be good enough to leave a man behind, huh?"

He wasn't ready to accept any excuses, no matter what they might be. Had the man left one of them for dead or stolen rationed supplies? It didn't matter. All that mattered was the image of Merle, angry and violent in his mind.

"He killed an innocent family in cold blood! Right in front of us!"

Daryl froze at this, letting up his grip just slightly.

"What?"

"Just put him down, please. I'll tell you everything you want to know about it."

Daryl looked to Rick and Hershel, both men still holding onto his arms in an attempt to pull him away. They looked as scared as Violet, even if they understood his reasons. He made a noise of disgust deep in his throat and released his victim. Reese backed away, choking for air as his partner moved to support him. Daryl loomed over them threateningly.

"Better start talkin'."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

47 Days Earlier

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The Mute Rat group was on its last leg almost literally.

After somehow escaping the grocery where they had met their first Deadite, the trio spent a few days thinking of what to do. At first, none but Reese were willing to believe what they'd seen as being real. Violet and Victor seemed thoroughly convinced that the town was in the middle of being used as a set for a movie. Especially Victor, who took a few too many risks in trying to prove that the undead were nothing more than actors in costume. The man had always been an adrenaline junkie, which was why he had agreed to fund the groups outings in the first place. There was nothing quite like being suspended from a rope deep in an abandoned mineshaft with no one around save your two best friends. This adrenaline addiction led him to carry a handgun everywhere with him, too. The only one of the group to do so, he did it out of a need to add an extra sense of danger no matter where he went. He confessed that he had no idea how to use one.

This thirst for danger had been planted in him by virtue of his father. A radio DJ by trade, Daniel "Dash" Nash hardly had time to spend with his son and only child. Thus, Victor had taken to other forms of entertainment, and urban exploration had become a sort of therapy. The only time he felt alive was when he was staring death in the face and laughing.

But literally laughing in the face of death had gone a little too far, when he tried to prove the woman in the grocery was in it all for a paycheck and a nice spot on her resume.

"Check this out, Pieces!" he snorted with laughter as he approached the woman and roughly shoved her down. The woman had no apparent sense of balance, and so teetered for a minute before crashing into the shelf behind her and knocking jars of jelly crashing to the floor. The walker snarled at him from her spot on the floor before hauling herself up.

"Haha! Look at that, she didn't break character! Now that's good acting!"

The crash had drawn the attention of other "shoppers" though, and it was only through Reese's insistence that they were able to dodge any nasty encounters on the way out, aided by a display stand of some new coffee brand. The young man had taken hold of the display and tipped it to the floor, providing a slight blockade and a bit of a distraction for the walkers as he steered his two friends back out to Blue.

Even after that, Victor still needed convincing of their new reality. So did Violet, though she seemed at least a bit less skeptical. After three weeks of wandering, hiding out in Blue, and near-misses, Victor finally believed in the walkers the moment he saw one chomp down on a lone wanderer's hand.

It had taken off three fingers with that bite, the poor man screaming for help while the trio watched in abject horror from the safety of the SUV.

After that, after the blood and the horrible wet chewing, Victor believed.

That encounter seemed to cause a profound change in their friend. He became snappish and rude, as if he was always on edge. They hadn't blamed him, since the environment had all their nerves frayed. But this was a side of Victor Nash they had never seen before. Sure, he had his dickish moments, being young and brash as anyone in college. He liked to party and he didn't like to be told what to do. They knew this already, so when he decided to start calling the shots, they let him. After all, it was his Escalade, they were his camping supplies, and it was on his gas dime that they had begun the trip in the first place. It just didn't feel right to question him.

It became apparent that in the new world, living and breathing human beings were a rare commodity. Rarer still were those who weren't intent on shooting your head off to rob you of your hard-earned supplies, as they so often saw. The city streets were a dangerous place, and with no place to sleep other than in the SUV, death waited just around the corner.

It had been almost a full month since their arrival. Thirty days since the world went to hell in a handbasket decorated with a pretty bloody ribbon. During yet another close call, Reese had fallen while running, taking Victor down with him. The older man's leg had twisted wrong upon landing, and he let out a bellow of pain that attracted a foursome of walkers to them.

"Shit, shit!" Violet had frantically scrambled to them, hooking one of Victor's arms over her shoulder and stumbling towards the nearest house. Her pounding on the door grew louder and more frantic as the walkers grew closer. Reese brandished the tire iron and bashed one in the side of the head. The walker stumbled, but did not fall. It was merely dazed, the force of the hit not nearly enough to take him down. Reese had joined Vivi in pounding on the door, but with the walkers just feet away, they were running out of hope that anyone could be home. Victor withdrew his handgun and took a potshot at the nearest one, but all it did was make a loud shattering noise as it broke the sidewalk and draw the attention of two more walkers down the street.

Reese had prepared to break down the door or smash a window, when the white wooden barrier swung open and the trio fell inside at the feet of a plump woman with red hair.

_~x~x~x~_

Audrey Redmond and her husband Charlie had been kind and accommodating the moment the members of Mute Rat fell through their doorway.

"I'm so sorry! We thought you might be one of those things!"

Violet's first thought had been that maybe the woman was a little too trusting, all things considered, but she was grateful for the family's help. Especially when Charlie and his eight year old son Matt helped Victor into the kitchen where Vivi could take a better look at his leg.

It was a break, but they took care of it. Anything they needed was tended to. The only thing the family asked was that they not wander outside, lest they be put in danger of invasion by the creatures.

For two weeks, things seemed to almost return to a sense of normalcy in the Redmond household. The windows were kept shuttered, and time was passed with games of Monopoly or stories of life from before. Things were good, until the night Victor suggested something completely out of the question to the other two.

He had been going stir-crazy, acting anxious like he couldn't sit still. The other two had an idea of what was going on with him, but they hadn't expected the suggestion that came from him.

"We can't stay here forever," he'd said to them. "We need to get outta here."

"How?" Violet demanded. "Go back out there? With what? Sporks and pinwheels?" She had grown attached to the household, and even more attached to the kind residents of the household. Kindness and generosity were not things they had seen since the start of the madness. The idea of leaving them behind to go back out into danger was not an appealing one. Though she understood the need to resupply and to figure out a plan, she was in no rush.

"We can't just leave them behind," Reese agreed with the woman.

"We don't need to go out empty handed. Everything we need is already right here in this house. We'll all go. All of us together. We'll take the SUV and head back to Seattle."

"Are you crazy? We'll never make it that far! We'd run out of fuel before we even crossed the state! Not to mention gee, I dunno...the cannibals walking around out there! I'm not going back out there right now, and I'm not putting this family at risk just because you've got cabin fever."

"You're the ones who decided I could call the shots. You're gonna take that back now?"

"Hell yes! You're not being you. Just chill out, okay? Let's go play a round of Monopoly and tomorrow we'll see if it's safe enough outside to get our stuff from the SUV."

He listened, or so it seemed, not saying anything more about his idea and rejoining the Redmonds. But the following night, while Vivi and Reese were telling the youngest member of the household about Seattle's Children's Festival just after mother's day, the self-proclaimed leader of the trio had approached the door.

"What are you doing there?" Charlie had asked him. "Food's about to be ready, why don't we go sit down in the kitchen?"

Victor ignored him completely, pulling back the shutters a bit to peer outside.

"Screw this. I'm done sitting here like this, waiting to die."

"What are you doing?" Charlie shouted in shock as Victor turned the doorknob. "You'll let those things right in here!"

"Shut it!" Victor pulled his handgun from his belt, and before either of his companions could react, he fired.

It happened in the blink of an eye. He probably hadn't meant to hit him, or maybe Victor had fired the gun as a warning shot, but in the close quarters of the house, the bullet hit home, tearing right through Charlie Redmond's heart.

Audrey's screams blended with her child's, and those of the other two urban explorers. Walkers pounded at the windows and the shutters rattled as Victor again tried to open the door, panic clear on his features. Violet and Reese seized him before he could get far, and before he could fire at anyone else. The group was shattered in that single violent moment. It was Reese who threw the punch that knocked him off his feet, and after that they locked him in the bathroom with his hands tied.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Violet and Reese waited silently for the group to process their story. Hershel and Rick seemed to think it was plausible enough, but Daryl still looked at them like they were stains on the bottom of his boots. "We tried to get Audrey and Matt to come with us, but after what Victor did...they didn't trust us. We left after getting our things together. Tried to, anyway. I'm not sure what made him go off like he did. Things were good for us there, you know? At least, we thought so. Even in the middle of the overrun city we felt safe," Reese lamented.

"Some people go off faster than others, I guess. We thought we knew our friend. I can't believe how easily he snapped. We could have held on there a little longer. If he hadn't gotten out, we might have been able to help them."

"..he got out?" Hershel questioned.

"Yeah," Violet shuddered. "We didn't have him locked in there securely enough. It only took a few minutes for him to beat down the door. Vic, he was a pretty muscular guy, so it didn't take a lot. I'm surprised we even got him in there in the first place. But he bust right through that door like it was tissue paper, and he was pissed as hell. We grabbed the other two and tried to get out before he did something else stupid but...well..."

Rick could tell the story was hard to tell. The young woman looked nauseous and ashamed, the young man furious at recounting the tale. It had only taken a little over a month for someone they considered a friend to break. He understood very well. Hell, his own experience with such a situation was still alive and well among the other survivors. That knowledge made him even more uncomfortable.

"It's alright. You don't have to tell us the rest."

"But if you guys took his gun before locking him up, how did he...how could he manage to hurt them?" Glenn asked. Rick shot him a look, but the damage had already been done.

"Vivi said so already, he was a muscular guy. He...got a knife. It's how I got this scar on my forehead."

He pointed to a long, curved mark just above his eyebrow that stretched into his hairline. That was all that Reese needed to do for them to understand. A vivid picture of the rest of the encounter had already started to paint itself in their minds. They could clearly see the duo running, feet pounding against the tarmac in a mad dash away from their enraged companion. They imagined what came after; piling into the SUV and peeling out as fast as possible, with their final member in the middle of a crowd of walkers.

Violet scrubbed her face furiously with her palms and looked at the group. The sheriff and the old man seemed sympathetic, while the Asian kid just looked horrified. The man with the crossbow wore an unreadable expression. Well, it wasn't as though _she_ would believe such a story from someone she just met either, Violet thought.

"I have...proof, in the trunk of the Escalade. But for now, can we just work together to get your friend out of here?"

Daryl wasn't quite sure what to make of the story. He'd seen firsthand how far someone could go off the deep end with Shane. Yet, the man was still in their group, even after killing Randall and Otis and leading them on ghost hunts so often. But these two were strangers. The entire story they had told could be made up. And what if they tried something suspicious when they got to the SUV? He clutched his crossbow tightly, gritting his teeth as he tried to make a decision.

"If you still can't believe me after that, you're welcome to kill me."

He looked up, blue eyes sharply staring into brown ones as the woman spoke again. She held his gaze unwaveringly, something about her look seemed haunted. This was the look of someone without anything to lose. He lowered the weapon again.

"Fine."

"Thank you."

They stood as one large group, Rick moving to haul Glenn to his feet and support him.

"So how do we get out of here?"

"There's a courtyard between the cafeteria and the guard hallway. It's pretty narrow, but it leads back outside to a gated area. One of the only ones that actually locks. We'll grab our stuff and meet you back here. It should only take a couple of minutes. If we're going to go, we should go before it starts to get dark. You guys have a vehicle too, I'm assuming?" Reese said.

Rick stopped them as they moved back up the stairs.

"Before we go, I have one more question for you."

Reese and Violet paused, waiting for him to speak.

"Why tell us anything at all? Why spill so much information about yourselves to people you only just met?"

"The way I see it is this; life is all about risks. That's probably the one good thing Vic taught us. Sure, there's the chance you'll kill us, take our stuff, and dump our bodies in a gully somewhere, and there's a chance we'll do the same to you. But honestly, we've got nothing left to lose."

"Alright," Rick said, nodding at the woman. "Then let's get out of here."

One sheriff, one injured man, one hunter, one veterinarian, and two urban explorers slowly padded down the hallway, all of them out of sorts with themselves and with the world. Whether or not they made it back to Elder's Mill in one piece hinged solely on their ability to trust strangers.

Trust. Say the word enough, and it starts to lose its meaning.

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-  
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The Atlanta Prison Farm is a very real place, and every bit as overgrown as described in this story. Pictures and history can be easily found online. I think it's a fascinating location, which is why I chose to use it in this story.

For those wondering about Victor, and thinking he's merely a throwaway character to contrive a way for the OCs to meet the group; hold your horses. He's not done haunting our Mute Rats yet. He seems like he went crazy-crazy, but please keep in mind that Victor is still pretty young, and that everyone reacts to stress differently. That's probably why alcohol was invented.


	4. By the Skin of Our Teeth

**Author's Note: Hello again dear readers. Have yet another chapter, won't you? This one's a bit shorter and not as dialogue-heavy, but I find that shorter chapters means I can pace the story better. **

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

**Chapter Four: By the Skin of Our Teeth**

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

"Well, this is problematic."

"I think that's the understatement of the century, Pieces."

Laden with their bags of supplies, the two Mute Rats led the other survivors to the cafeteria. A banged-up and termite eaten wooden window frame separated them from the courtyard Reese had mentioned before. Much of the glass had already been broken out or taken by raiders in the past, so all that was left was the skeleton in the gap. The courtyard beyond stretched between two buildings, turning this way and that before ending in a larger yard, according to Reese. It was extremely narrow, from what they could see. They'd only be able to go one or two at a time. A couple of trees grew upwards through the gravel-covered soil, further narrowing the passage. This was bad news for them, since Glenn couldn't put any weight on his bad leg. Someone would have to help him through, squeeze past the trees, and come out the other side. The duo had many more supplies than the Atlanta group had expected. Besides the duffel of medical supplies (which upon further inspection seemed to be a lot of disposable, single-use items), there was a bag of foodstuffs and a bag of clothing. Nothing too heavy, but Rick wondered how they managed to make their food last so long, to which Reese merely replied that he had learned how to make a pretty tasty wildgreen salad.

Violet elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

"We had a lot of peanut butter from a supply run when we first came down this way. A _lot_ of peanut butter."

A quick look into the bag revealed that they _still_ had a lot of peanut butter (they had grown so sick of it that they swore themselves off eating it until they got desperate), along with a bag of raisins and trailmix. There were bags of rice and navy beans in the bottom. Besides that, the bag held three big blue-wrapped bricks of something, and many packets of "gourmet" camping food. Rick swore loudly at the sight. Startled, the two explorers backed away from him slightly.

"Sorry. It's just that, with all this, we could feed the camp for weeks."

"Oh. Hah, yeah I guess it could feed a bunch of people. Wait...does this mean you agree that we should help each other?" Reese stared wide-eyed at the sheriff.

"We have no reason not to," he agreed, and they could almost literally feel a lot of the tension melting away.

The duo explained that they couldn't eat them without adding boiling water, a commodity they didn't have as they rarely left the safety of the buildings and didn't want to risk starting a fire inside. They hadn't had a cooked meal in a long time, instead eating up the perishables first and surviving off of bottled water. But there were a lot of those pouches in the bag, and they didn't have an expiration date.

"How'd you get so much?" Hershel wanted to know.

"The ration bars and camping food we already had on our trip down here. We picked the rest up during one big supply run. We didn't want to make any more trips than we had to," came Vivi's reply. "Again, it was risky business with just the two of us. The grocery was pretty much overrun. How'd we get out, you might ask? We seem to have an insane amount of dumb luck."

She left out the fact that they'd had to do two laps around the parking lot with the grocery cart before they could actually find the SUV among the broken vehicles, and that it was only because someone else in the area had fired shots at something in the distance that they were able to escape the undead. That was an incident she didn't like to talk about.

While having such an abundance of supplies was good news, it meant they'd have to haul it all through the narrow walkway and carry it to the SUV while avoiding any threats.

Of course, the biggest threat in leaving was the monsters who were ever-present outside, and if there was a group of them on the other side where the locked gate opened up, they'd be like rats in a hole with a snake burrowing in after them. Violet snorted at the irony.

So someone had to go out first and check if the coast was clear. This too, was a huge problem. The only one with a silent weapon was Daryl, who was on his last bolt. Neither of the explorers had weapons at all, unless you counted Reese's tire iron. The gun they had taken from Victor was stashed away in the SUV. Not that it would have helped. If one of the guns were fired, that would only make things worse. Reese volunteered to go have a look before the others, and report back as soon as he could. He knew where the SUV was parked; about a five minute walk away from the buildings. It would be risky, but if the coast wasn't clear they'd have to come up with a different plan.

Before any of that, they had to break out the window frame. He stood back from the window, thinking hard. There had to be some way of doing it without noise.

"Ah!" he said suddenly, having an epiphany. "The tire iron!"

The thick metal tool had been his weapon of choice since they left Victor behind. Heavy and sturdy, it served more functions that just bashing in the occasional undead skull. It had a flat end opposite the head. And it could probably be used as a lever...

"Hey, that's not a bad idea," Vivi encouraged him. "It'll still crack the wood, but it shouldn't make too much noise."

"Give me a hand with it."

Violet set down her load of supplies as the others took a step back. Reese shoved the flat end between the window frame and the cutout, and Violet took up position by holding onto the other end of the tool. Together, they shifted to the left, pushing all their weight into the handle. The wood groaned a bit before splitting one of the boards down the middle with a loud pop. The duo stopped and jiggled the boards.

"It's decayed enough we can just pull it out now."

Thank whatever deity above for small miracles, they thought as the pair worked to carefully pull the split board from the middle. From there, it was as simple as pulling out another two boards to make the space big enough for Reese to squeeze through. Violet handed him the tire iron through the window, but stopped him from moving anywhere until she had a few words with him.

"You have to be as quiet as possible," she told him.

"Know that already," Reese cut her off. "I'll be careful. Hopefully I won't have to use this. Watch my stuff."

"Wait. Take this with you."

She rummaged around in the front pocket of one of the duffles until she found a soda-can sized black cylinder with a red cap and white label. Staring at it for a moment, she handed it to him roughly. Reese stared at the can she'd handed him in confusion.

"Seriously? You think bear mace is gonna help if one of those things tries to chew my face off?"

"You never know. Could be a zombie bear out there," his friend rolled her eyes at him. Her tone sobered up as he moved to leave. "Just take it with you."

He shrugged, clipping it to his belt and brandishing the tire iron as he started to make his way out of the courtyard, trying not to consider the possibility of zombie bears.

"Watch yourself," Violet told him urgently, her heart beating frantically as she watched her friend creep out of sight around the corner.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Oh_, this was a stupid idea, Reese thought to himself.

Winding his way through a narrow courtyard that felt more like a shitty outdoor hallway and hoping that the end wouldn't be blocked off sounded like nothing more than suicide. He hadn't been thinking, he berated himself. There were any number of other exits they could have used without taking such a risk.

His brain wasn't working right, he tried to convince himself. Since spilling their guts to the group of strangers who had found their hideout (and how ironic, that they didn't know any of _their_ names), he'd felt out of sorts.

At least, that's what he told himself.

The truth was, while dangerous, the exit really was the easiest way to get to the SUV undetected. There wasn't as much danger of tripping through the overgrowth, and the buildings provided cover from any potential walker sightings. Even if they were driven into a choke point, they'd be able to retreat back into the prison and find another way out.

He was pulled from his lamentation as he approached the gate at the end. It was shut tight, but not locked. He peered through the bars and the brush, scanning thoroughly for any sort of movement. Seeing nothing, he carefully pushed open the rusty metallic doors and crept around the corner with his back to the wall. He couldn't afford any surprises.

The distance from his position to the SUV was still a good walk. They'd parked close to the building to make an easy run for it, but didn't want it too close to where they were actually staying in case someone came along and found them.

Fat load of good that had done though, he thought with a wry smile.

The coast seemed clear, even after fifteen minutes of crouching low and keeping to the building in case of anything spotting him. He could see Blue, untouched and still where it had been hidden. A little ways beyond that was Hershel's red Suburban, where the group had gotten out. He frowned as he looked over the expanse of vine-choked ground between his spot and the vehicles. It would be tricky to navigate around the holes underneath while weighed down with their supplies. Good thing the area was clear. He turned back and made his way to the gate again, ready to squeeze back into the corridor.

A loud snarl to the left caught his attention. A single male walker stood right by the trees, eyes locked onto Reese. Its decaying stench and mottled skin made him crinkle his nose in disgust. Half the walker's face was missing, a huge flap of skin hanging down like a fleshy curtain. Reese didn't move, or make a noise. He watched, waiting for the monster to make a move. When the creature lunged forward with teeth gnashing, he let out a yelp and, on reflex, sprayed the hell out of the spot in front of him with the mace.

He admonished himself for a moment, mentally slapping himself for using mace when he had a tire iron in his hand. He quickly composed himself and took a step back, raising the iron high above himself and bringing it down on the walker's head.

The force wasn't enough to kill it in one hit, so Reese readied for another swing. To his surprise, the walker seemed disoriented, stumbling back from the force of the blow and, seemingly, from the mace. He blinked. Did it actually do something?

The walker looked around for a moment, gaze sweeping right over Reese. It seemed really confused at where its prey had gone. The smell of fresh pumping blood was harder to discern in the air. Reese didn't stop to question any of it, bringing the iron down hard on the creature's skull and repeating the action until its head had caved in. He'd have to tell Vivi about the mace later though...

He opened the gate, shaken but no worse for wear, and began the trek back to the window. The encounter had put a bit of speed to his step, so only moments later he spotted Violet's sheet-white face looking at him through the window. They hadn't moved since he departed.

He watched Vivi breathe a sigh of relief. It was clear that the other four had been keeping a close, suspicious eye on her since he'd left. His friend looked extremely uncomfortable. He felt bad for having taken so long.

"Are you okay?" she asked him. He gave her a nod, laying a comforting hand on hers through the window.

"It's all clear. There was one walker by the gate but I took him out. You won't believe this, but that mace of yours actually did something."

"Seriously?" Glenn seemed to be the most curious about the two, and probably the most accepting, considering they had patched his leg up. This caught the interest of the others too, though. Anything that helped against the walkers was a good thing to know.

"Yeah, it scared the hell out of me, snuck up right next to me at the gate on the way back. I sprayed it in the face out of reflex. Funny thing to do when you have a heavy blunt object in your other hand. Anyway, I'm not sure what, but something about it confused the thing, like it didn't know I was there anymore."

"Couldn't smell ya," Daryl explained.

"What?"

"Walkers. They hunt by smell. Probably messed up yer scent, s'why it got confused."

"That's a useful thing to know," Vivi patted Reese's hand. "But enough of this sitting around bullshit. Time to load up."

She passed the bags through to him one at a time before hopping through the window and gesturing to Glenn.

"Come on, we want to get you to Blue first."

"What makes you think for a second we're lettin' him ride with ya?" Daryl pulled Glenn back away from the window.

"Because he's injured, and he'll take the longest to get out of here. Look, we can fight about this all day, but I'd like to get out of here first. He'll need rest and pain meds, which I don't want to give to him while we're still not in a secure place."

"And I still don't trust either of ya two."

"For Christ's sake!" Vivi threw her hands into the air. "Fine! Have him get into the Suburban then! Whatever! I'm just saying we need to get him out first!"

She stared hard at him, jaw set in annoyance. Just when was he going to get the picture? She waited impatiently for him to answer.

"Fine, do what ya want. But _I'm_ comin with ya. The second either of you tries anythin', I'll be ready for it."

"Alright already! We get it! Big bad redneck with a crossbow no likey Reese and Vivi. We're over it already, so let's just go."

Vivi held out her hand for Glenn to brace himself before he swung down from the window. Reese positioned himself below the gap to help steady the Asian as he landed. Glenn gulped nervously before taking hold of the woman's hand and sliding out. Reese was there on his injured side to take hold of his shoulder and lead him through the courtyard. The lone female of the group stayed behind to lead the others out, offering a hand to them as well. Daryl curtly ignored her, leaping down and landing heavily before shoving past her to catch up with Reese. The others politely declined, opting to climb out on their own. Seeing the look on her face, Rick grimaced and offered a short apology.

"I'm really sorry. Daryl isn't the best with people, and we've had some close calls. Just give him some time to get used to you."

"Get used to what? I don't blame him one little bit. All anyone's got left is survival. That's all he's trying to do, and we haven't given you guys a single reason to make friends with us. But when you can finally believe that we're telling the truth and not out to get you, then I'd like to know your names."

"But not before then?" Rick seemed amused. It was clear that she didn't trust them anymore than they trusted her. At least, if her reaction to having her own name told was any indication.

"Nope."

He thought of the man at the camp who had tried to kill him in the woods the last night back at the farm. He thought of all the times he had tolerated his back-stabbing, and of the fact that he had tried to take his family from him. He shook his head in shame. Here this girl was, with her young friend, who had both presented everything that had happened since the start of the outbreak. This young woman who, despite having an arrow pointed at her face, had still used up precious supplies from her own stash to help Glenn for no other reason than a Hippocratic Oath. He sighed and ran a hand over his forehead, feeling weary. He tapped Vivi on the shoulder as they walked through the courtyard. She seemed confused when he held his hand out to her.

"Rick Grimes," he said as she cautiously accepted the procured hand. Violet smiled.

"Nice to meet you."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Once the group had all reached the gate, Reese began to lead the way to the SUV, still supporting Glenn. Daryl took up the rear, falling back behind the others and scanning the trees for walkers despite only having one arrow. Rick helped with Glenn, while Hershel and Violet stayed in the middle carrying the supplies. It was bright, the afternoon sun hanging high in the sky and beating down on the survivors as they crossed the field of dying kudzu.

The way was still clear, not an undead monster in sight. He and Rick quickly led Glenn to the Suburban and wrenched both back doors open to get him inside while Daryl continued to scan the trees. Violet headed to the Escalade, opening the back hatch in order to load up the supplies. As soon as she finished up, she and Hershel turned to check on the others, horrified to see a lone walker approaching the Suburban. It looked like it had been hidden in the brush, and it was headed right for the open back doors. None of the others had seen it yet.

"Walker!" Vivi barked out and broke into a run, crossing the distance in a few short strides. This had gotten everyone's attention as the rotting creature reached for Glenn's foot. She got there before it could, slamming the door shut on the walker's head right as Glenn pulled his foot in.

The door decapitated the thing in one fell-swoop, the severed head landing on the floor of the cab. Glenn yelped and scrambled to get away from the still-growling thing. Reese let go of him and got out of the vehicle, stepping back out of the way as Daryl stepped up and seized the head by the hair. The group watched, grossly fascinated, as the last crossbow bolt penetrated the skull as it was flung out through the air as if it were a clay pigeon. He quickly moved to retrieve the arrow, and the others watched as he spotted the other two walkers he'd felled earlier and went to get their arrows as well.

"Where the hell did that come from? I thought you said it was clear!" Violet accused her friend.

"It was! It must have been in the brush when I came out before!"

"That was too close. So is everybody okay?"

"Yeah. Nice thinking there."

"Mmhm. Excellent car-fu."

The woman barked out a laugh.

"Never do that to me again. Eyes on the road now, Pieces. Let's get out of here already."

Obviously, Glenn was to go with Hershel and Rick. Reese and Vivi would follow them back to the camp and unload while introductions were made, but it was unclear what Daryl wanted to do. He had said before that he was going with them. Violet didn't like the look in his eye. He had his arrows back, and he had made it very clear that he didn't like either of the Mute Rats. She gulped as he approached their vehicle with heavy footsteps.

"I'm ridin' in the back so I can keep an eye on ya. Don't think for one second that I won't sink a bolt into both of yer skulls if you so much 's _think_ about doin' somethin' stupid."

"Duly noted."

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**Ending Note: There seems to be an abundance of Daryl/OC fics with the main female having medical training, and I'm no exception to that. Honestly, I hadn't read many others before starting this one, so I was unaware of that when I started writing. Too late to take it back. Sorry if it's offputting to some readers, but let's see if I can't set Vivi apart. I hope you'll continue supporting me in writing this story. I know I'm certainly enjoying it. Til next time!**


	5. Biting the Hand that Feeds You

**Author's Note: Thanks for all the faves and story alerts, everyone! I'm so happy this is starting to pick up a following. I have a question for all my readers though. ****Would you guys prefer longer updates spaced further apart, or do you like the shorter, more frequent updates? Let me know what you think, both in regards to that and how you feel about the story so far, would you? I'd really appreciate it. **

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**Chapter Five: Biting the Hand that Feeds You**

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They were taking too long to get back.

Since the moment Hershel's Suburban had vanished from sight, Lori had been staring down the path in anxiety. The sun had barely been up when the supply group had left, and now it was well into the afternoon. With it being the beginning of fall, the days were growing shorter than before. It would not be long before the camp was shrouded in darkness.

She knew Beth and Maggie were anxious too, the latter waiting not only for her father but for Glenn as well. Worrying about one member of the group was tough enough, but to have two people you love go for so long with no word of their whereabouts? It was the worst feeling in the world. Lori didn't envy Maggie for that. Though, she was impressed at how the girl was handling it, spending time mending clothes or scouring the perimeter of the camp for anything that might be useful. There wasn't anything to be found, since it had already been stripped clean the first few nights, but the idea was what counted.

_'There she is doing something useful, while all I can do is stand here with my mouth hanging open.'_

She'd been so caught up in her own anxieties that she'd ignored Carl and Shane all day. The officer had taken it upon himself to keep Carl occupied and out of the way, showing the boy how to properly clean and reassemble every weapon in the camp. Lori hadn't even protested, too focused on her own activity. Carl didn't have much knack for the task, so it took up much of the day. Stuck in the camp, none of the other survivors left dared wander into the woods, knowing that not only was it pointless to do so, but that it was even more dangerous than it had been in a large group. The ammunition shortage didn't help matters.

Shane wondered if that had been Rick's intention, to cripple them so they'd be stuck until he returned. To split the group so that all of his actions would be closely watched and noted by all.

He shook his head in disgust. Maybe he shouldn't have backed down that night. Maybe he would have shot Rick, or maybe Rick would have gutted him instead. It didn't matter who could have been killed, at least then he'd not feel so damn _trapped_. No one knew what had almost transpired that night, except for himself and Rick and maybe that Dixon asshole. And Shane wasn't exactly tripping over himself to change that.

Everyone was grasping at straws now. They had no food, no ammunition, and no idea what to do next. What did any of them have left to hold on to?

He himself only had Lori and Carl, but even then they weren't really his. He couldn't afford to backstab anyone in broad daylight. In order to stay with them, to be able to even see them or be near them, he'd have to tread lightly with Rick. That was, if Rick even came back at all...

Lori would break if he didn't. She was already unraveling at the seams, evidenced by the fact that she'd not eaten a thing all day. Shane left Carl with Hershel's daughters and stood, bound to put a stop to her self-destruction.

"Lori," he approached her.

"Shane," she replied, panting from exertion. The lack of energy and nourishment was taking its toll on her. "He's gonna be back, right? He promised he would. He's got to."

"Prolly just had to go further out for stuff, that's all. If he ran into walkers, he's got Daryl with him. He always comes back for you and Carl. But if he comes back and sees you like this, he'll know you been worryin' yourself. Then he'll get upset. Hell, it'll prolly be my hide he tans for not taking are of ya." His poor attempt at humor went completely over her head.

"So why don't we go to the tents and get ya something to eat?"

"I'm not going anywhere until my husband gets back," Lori smiled sadly. "Sides that, we don't have much left. Better that someone else gets that food."

"Lori, the baby..."

"I'll live a day without eating. I got those vitamins Glenn brought for me, so I'll be fine."

Shane let his shoulders drop. It was obvious she wasn't going to listen to him at all. She rarely did. So he gave up trying to talk with her, instead joining her in staring down the path, unsure if he wanted Rick to return or not. He was damned if he did, damned if he didn't. Shane would end up at the short end of the stick either way.

They didn't have much longer to wait, though, as they spotted the red hood of the Suburban swinging around the corner only a few minutes later. Their agonizing wait was over, but the anxiety didn't die completely until the doors opened and they saw the group inside alive and well.

Lori started to run to them, freezing when she saw Rick helping Glenn out of the back to support him as they hobbled back towards the others.

"The hell happened out there?" It was Shane who spoke.

"Ran into some walkers. We got away just fine, but Glenn fell on his knife while we were running."

"I-is he okay?" Maggie and Beth had joined them.

"He's fine," Hershel assured them. "He bled quite a bit, but we got him help as soon as we could. Why don't you two girls take him back to the tents so he can rest?"

"How did you help him? You guys didn't have any supplies on ya," Shane pointed out.

"We found some along the way," Rick said, gesturing his thumb at the path where a blue Escalade was pulling up.

"Oh hell," Shane groaned. "You didn't...You brought _more_ people here?"

"Now, Shane listen..."

"Don't start with me Rick. Things are bad enough without you bringin in more problems for us, extra mouths bein one of em."

"They have food, Shane. They're the ones who helped us with Glenn, so they got medicine too."

"So what? Say we go through all that, an' then what? They'll weight us down, Rick. They'll weigh us down and someone else'll get killed trying to protect them."

By then, the two urban explorers had climbed out of the Escalade and stood by the doors as Rick argued with a tall and muscular man with tanned skin. From the looks of things, it seemed pretty one-sided. Shane looked up to see the two; a wiry young man with ginger hair and green eyes which went well with his predictably freckled complexion, and a pale-skinned brunette with blunt-cut bangs, the rest of her hair pulled into a ponytail. He became even more agitated.

"Kids, Rick!" he shouted. "You brought a couple of helpless kids!"

"Hey now," Violet protested jokingly. "Reese here I can understand, being of such an impressionable nineteen, but I'll have you know I'm twenty-six."

Shane glared at her, and Reese shot her a look.

"Okay, sorry. Bad time for snark." She threw her hands up in defeat.

"They have food and medicine, and they patched Glenn up. More'n that, they're willing to share with us. Just...give them a chance, will you? Like I've given you another chance?"

That seemed to pacify Shane somewhat. He glared at the two, and had Violet seen that Daryl was also glaring at them, albeit behind them where they couldn't see, she would probably have laughed. As it was, the situation was rather sober. She and Reese waited with bated breath for the verdict.

"Fine. They stay. But we're not giving them any of our weapons, and they'd better keep their distance."

"How is that fair, exactly?" Violet snapped.

"What'd you say, girlie?"

"So we have to share our stuff, but if we need anything from you we're shit out of luck? You've got a fucked up notion of the word 'share,' pal. You can be damn sure we'll be keeping our distance though. I wouldn't want to be within five feet of you lest 'asshole' be a contagious condition."

She stomped back behind the SUV and unlocked the back to haul out the bags. She ignored Daryl's thousandth mean look and let the bags fall heavily to the dirt before slamming the trunk shut.

"Who the hell are these people?" Shane asked.

"Urban explorers, apparently," Rick answered. "From the Evergreen state."

"I don't really care who they are. Without them we'd still be stuck back there empty handed." Glenn had emerged from one of the tents, supported by Maggie. He strained himself to get to where Reese stood and offered his hand.

"I, for one, trust them. We'd have been screwed if it wasn't for you guys. I'm Glenn."

The girl next to him smiled as well. "Maggie. My sister over there is Beth. Can't thank you enough for patching him up for us."

"Ah...the one who did that was actually Vivi over there. I just stood by and played surgical assistant," he laughed nervously. Reese had suddenly turned shy after shaking Glenn's hand, feeling a bit overwhelmed with so many people staring. It had been one thing at the prison farm, but now that the adrenaline was wearing off...

"Pieces! You gonna stand there all day or pick a spot for us to set up shop?" Violet snapped, making him jump. Maggie and Beth looked to the woman in shock.

Reese meekly crawled back into the driver's seat and slowly pulled the vehicle off to the side, some distance from the tents and other vehicles, while Violet stalked over and set the bags up in the middle of the camp by the firepit. Curious eyes followed her as she unzipped the one with the food in it and dumped it onto the ground, then began sorting it. All was quiet, the survivors stunned to silence. The woman heaved a sigh and stood up again.

"Look, I'm sorry. It's been a long day and I haven't had anything to eat in a while," her tone was still snappish, but it was clear she was trying to cool herself from her outburst. Though, they could easily understand why she was angry. "I can't be the only one, and it's said tempers fly when stomachs are empty. So let's start over, huh?"

"What do you suggest?" Shane approached and crossed his arms. His tone was still aggressive. Between his distrust and Daryl's, Violet wondered how she hadn't shrunk from the withering looks they kept throwing her way. She held her hands up in silent surrender, hands clutching twin jars.

"Who here likes peanut butter?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

After a tense few minutes, Violet's offering of food to the group was accepted. Most of them had been wary of her after the outburst by the Escalade, but as soon as Reese returned to her side she relaxed considerably, as did the others. And who were they to question food when it came to them? Most of them hadn't eaten in a couple of days, the shortage in supplies being carefully rationed. This meant that their meager supply had lasted longer, but it also meant only two or three people got to eat at a time. It had been tough to agree on who got to eat and who went without. Eventually, it was decided that Rick would be the one to make the call. Daryl had declined being included in the rotation. Though the forest couldn't supply enough meat for the whole group, he always found enough for himself, so no one was too worried about him.

Now though, the tough call was no longer a requirement. The allure of food was too tempting, so most of the survivors accepted bits of peanut butter and ration bars rather than waiting for something to be cooked.

Violet sat back with her own bit of ration bar, casting the peanut butter jars a look of disdain. The others didn't complain though, and it presented a prime opportunity to get rid of the damned stuff. A win-win situation in her eyes. Nobody tried to take more than they were given, to her surprise. Everyone accepted what they were offered without question, and the group decided as a whole that since the supplies belonged to the explorers, they'd be the ones in charge of them. Perhaps because of this decision, the looks of distrust melted away and the survivors suddenly became a lot more welcoming to the Mute Rat duo. People got a lot friendlier when food was on the line. Violet rolled her eyes, but said nothing, enjoying the idle chatter of their new companions. Reese joined her where she sat, a bit away from the group just enjoying the sounds of humanity, something the pair had sincerely missed since they had begun staying in the prison farm.

Rick sat back with his family, watching them from in front of their tent as the sun began to set. The newcomers had moved from the empty firepit to their SUV to set themselves up for the night. They watched as they opened the back and pulled out the rest of their gear to set up a tent right next to the vehicle. Once they were done, Reese retreated into the wheeled beast they had dubbed Blue, flattened the three rows of seats, and crawled in with his bedding.

"What do you think of them?" Rick asked his wife when things had settled down.

Lori had finally gotten some food in her stomach at Rick's prompting, and was feeling better because of it. She sat with her husband and Carl (who had fallen asleep while she gently stroked his hair) as the evening wound down. Shane took the first watch, finding a spot high in an uncomfortable tree where he could see most of the camp. This gave him a chance to mull over his thoughts, numerous and chaotic, and the Grimes family some time to be together.

Lori contemplated his question for a moment before answering, allowing her eyes to drift over to the young woman sitting with an LED light and some camera equipment.

"They seem legit," she said with some uncertainty. "But don't you think it might be too good to be true? These people show up right when we need supplies the most without expecting anything but company in return? I mean, from what you were saying, the place they were holed up in was pretty good. Why couldn't they just patch up Glenn and then...I don't know, send you all on your merry way?"

"Ha," Rick let out a little laugh. "That wouldn't have happened. We were the ones with the guns."

"Rick, be serious for a minute."

"I am being serious. We were in need and they helped us when they could have just left things be. But if they'd done that, none of us would have eaten tonight. Not you or me, or Carl. You should have seen the look on that girl's face, Lori. When she saw us it was like...I don't know like...she found something."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not even sure," Rick rubbed at his neck. "But I _am_ sure that we should at least give them a chance, try to believe that other people in this world really can be trusted."

"Hm," Lori laid her hand on his chest. "Alright. I pray you're right about this."

"Trust me, so do I."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Here, these'll be your responsibility from now on."

Reese stared at the bag his friend had just set in front of him, the one full of all the food. He opened his mouth to protest, not wanting such a huge job, but she shushed him before he got a sound out.

"I already have to keep track of the meds. Don't start."

Reese grinned. "Yes ma'am."

The duo was quiet as they sat together, the lights from the LEDs illuminating their work; both taking inventory of their bags using the backs of old receipts in the glove compartment. Reese lay on his stomach in the back of the SUV, feet dangling out of the makeshift bed. Both were content to just sit there, even if it was still a bit early to turn in. They were a good distance from the other campers, deciding to set up their green military-surplus-acquired tent with the vehicle as a sort of "outlying settlement." The group had gotten friendlier since dinner, but both explorers knew too well that they still felt wary of them. It was better to maintain their distance to cut down on the unease both sides still felt.

"Hey, Reese."

The young man looked up from his bag, over his shoulder at the young woman sitting in front of the tent.

"Yeah?"

"You sure you don't want to sleep in the tent? There's still room."

"Nah, I feel...I dunno, safer in here I guess."

"Because the doors lock?"

Reese laughed. "Yeah, that's probably it."

"If you change your mind, don't be afraid to snuggle up," the woman teased.

"Yeah, whatever." Reese rolled his eyes.

"...hey, Reese."

"Vivi?"

"Are you okay with this? I didn't even ask what you wanted before deciding we should come join the group. I didn't consider your opinion."

"Hey, it doesn't matter. Yes, I kind of wanted to stay, but I was starting to go stir-crazy too. I mean, you're great company but no offense, I'd like to hear more than just rants about hot water now and then."

The female explorer grinned, turning from her task to examine the camera in her lap.

"But Vivi, since we're on the subject, why did you want to help them anyway?"

"I...don't want to talk about this right now. Get some sleep."

Reese was confused, but didn't say anything about it. Did she blame herself for Victor? It wasn't her fault, and they had tried to talk him down. Why clam up all of a sudden? He stared thoughtfully at her for a moment over his shoulder. Whatever it was, he hoped her complex would not stop her from saving herself if the situation called for it. He'd already lost one best friend. He couldn't bear to lose two. And as Violet rose with the video camera and began to walk towards where Daryl had set himself up, he knew she'd be in for a painful experience as she relived the event to show the judgmental redneck her "proof." Was it really so important to her? She just couldn't mind her own well enough to sit still?He shook his head and returned to his task, deciding against getting involved with any of it.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Violet paused as she moved to close the distance between their tent and Daryl's. Staring at the lit-up screen of the camera, and the freeze-frame image of Victor, she plopped down by the firepit and exhaled a puff of air. It was impossible to keep her eyes on the image of her best friend brandishing a kitchen knife at a terrified Audrey. Matt was just visible in the corner of the screen by his father's body, while Violet's own hand could be seen outstretched in the middle of the frame as she had tried to talk him out of making another fatal mistake. She shook her head and swallowed thickly to rid herself of the nauseous feeling that had risen in her throat, then backed up the footage even more. Images flashed by, of Reese running to try pushing Vic away from Audrey, of the knife coming down on his forehead just before that, and a flash of bloodied carpet. She bit her lip and tried to fight the sob she knew was going to escape. She still didn't understand why it had happened. He had been their friend, their partner, the narrator of their documentary clips. Victor had been a bit of an asshole sometimes, but never a bad person. She hadn't expected him of all people to give in so early on.

A final deep, steadying breath and Violet was standing just three feet outside of Daryl's tent. She didn't dare just walk in for fear of getting an arrow through the neck. Instead, she called out.

"Hey, you in there?"

It took only moments for him to appear, pushing aside the flap of his tent and, as she expected, armed to the teeth.

"What'ya want?" he drawled.

She held the camera out to him, which he stared at in confusion.

"My proof," she said quietly.

The man's gaze flickered back and forth from the camera to her face, as if trying to gauge her true intentions. Seeing that he wasn't going to take anything directly from her without a fuss, she sighed and stepped closer, setting the device on the ground.

"It's gonna be a little quiet," she went on. "Turned the sound low so we won't attract any walkers. Just...please. I need you to believe us. Not sure how much longer I can put up with all the nasty looks you keep throwing my way."

"An' you think this'll fix it just like that? Listen, girlie, even if this does set the record straight, I ain't gonna coddle you none. And I sure as hell ain't lookin to make friends."

His tone was clear. It translated to; stay the hell away from me. I don't like you because you're weak and unwanted in this camp. Until you prove otherwise, don't expect the nasty looks to stop.

"That's fine. As long as you know."

Daryl picked up the camera with one hand, keeping a wary eye on the explorer as he did so. Backing up a few steps, he set his crossbow down and hit the play button. Violet was eternally glad the sound was low enough that she couldn't hear from where she stood. She didn't need to hear it to know exactly what was happening on the screen. She fidgeted, feeling nauseous again. Daryl paused for a moment to watch her. She was excessively uncomfortable. Good. _Let_ her be, he thought. They had no place here, and they would have to learn that sooner or later. He turned his attention back to the camera.

The screen was a little blurry and the frame was turned sideways, but he could still make out everyone in the frame just fine. The image was shaky too, as if the woman hadn't really been intending to film anything. Maybe she'd just been carrying it and hit the record button?

The events were chaotic.

A guy with dark hair laying across his forehead was coming right at the camera Violet had been holding, shouting something. He leaned closer to hear.

"Fuck! Fuck! We can't stay here anymore! Let me out of this goddamn place right now!"

Reese appeared in the frame from the right, gripping the other guy's arm and trying to pull him away. He got slugged in the face for his efforts while the camera seemed to move away from the two. More words were exchanged and the image moved in front of Victor again, like they'd been trying to block his way.

"We can't go anywhere! Not with those things out there!" Violet's voice.

"And you'd rather just sit here and die? I'm going!"

Some choice that was; stay in a house with a madman or run out to a mob of flesh-eating monsters.

"You just killed a man, Vic!" Reese screamed. "You really think you can just walk right out of here like it was nothing? You can stop this. We can still make this right!"

"If you don't let me out of here I'll make you move! I can't take this anymore!"

"Stop! Just stop!"

It had been crazy to think the bathroom would hold him. Now all they had to show for it was one very angry, very unhinged man with a lot of muscle behind him. He kept trying to shove past them while the pair did all they could to hold him back. He was growing visibly more angry by the second before running to the kitchen and grabbing a knife. He grabbed Audrey roughly and held the knife to her throat while Matt screamed in the background.

"If you don't let me out, I'll fuckin' kill her!"

"No! Vic!"

Reese got his forehead slashed as he tried to take it away from his friend, blood splashing onto the carpet.

"Agh! Fuck! Vivi, don't let him leave! He'll let those things right in here and then we're done for!"

"I...I can't! We can't do anything! Let's just go! We have to get to the SUV before him!"

Victor ran at her this time, and Daryl could hear her scream behind the camera as she picked up a lamp from the coffee table and smashed it over his head.

The camera fell to the floor as Violet appeared in the frame (her feet, at least) and helped Reese up. The two ran for the door, trying to get the two fearful family members huddled in a corner, to leave.

"Come on! We have to get out of here! He's lost it! We can still make it out of here though, so come with us!"A brief moment in which the camera was picked up showed Victor stunned on the floor with a bloody, broken nose, and then the screen went black.

Daryl crinkled his nose at the screen. So they had been telling the truth. It was unclear what had happened to the two Redmonds, as they hadn't been visible in the video for very much of its duration, but odds were they hadn't made it out. Odds were Victor had recovered quickly and chased his two companions out of the house, hellbent on revenge. Daryl looked up to say something to the woman, but she had vanished from sight. He set the camera down and let out a hiss of breath.

"Damn."

He saw her by the SUV, leaning in to speak to her partner before retreating into her tent. Straining to hear, he could just barely make out their final exchange before turning off their LEDs.

"Everything okay, Vivi?"

"Yeah. It's okay. We'll be okay. Rats always crawl out of the gutter."

Daryl sat back, staring at the now-blank screen of the camera one last time before giving a snort.

_'Rats, huh? Well we'll see if these rats are as tough as they say.'_

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	6. Baby Steps

Author's Note: A longer chapter for you all this time. I can't guarantee they'll all be this long, but there was a lot of interaction to cram in. I also have a couple of useful links at the bottom of the page. Enjoy!

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**Chapter Six: Baby Steps**

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When Reese woke up in the morning, his first thought was "I gotta get to class." Until he stumbled out of the Escalade in confusion and saw that he was not in his dorm room, but in the middle of nowhere, he maintained the thought that he was going to be late for Professor Harken's first-period Ancient Empires class. Tripping over his own two feet and landing on his back, he took in the sun and the sky, and reality sunk in.

This wasn't home. Home possibly didn't even exist anymore. Professor Harken could possibly be a walker. His cute classmate Claire was possibly a walker. Everything he knew was gone.

This had happened before, every time he and Violet moved to a new place. The effect lasted for about a week every time, and until he got used to the new location he would wake with thoughts of his old life steering him. He lay there in the dirt, shirtless, and felt tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He made no move to get up until he saw a pale face surrounded by a curtain of dark hair hovering above him.

"You okay, kiddo?" Violet's voice was gentle as she leaned down to feel his forehead.

"I'm not delirious, Vivi."

A smile broke over the woman's face.

"Just checking."

She offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet. He yawned and stretched thoroughly, noticing that she was already set to go for the day. The black t-shirt had been traded in for a soft gray v-neck shirt with long sleeves. Her jeans were switched out too, a darker pair replacing the walker-gore stained denim she'd worn before. Her hair was worn loose today. Reese had always thought Violet to be pretty in a way that reminded him sometimes painfully of his older sister.

Sadie Holloway had been a bit younger than Violet, all smiles and sarcasm. Violet's sometimes immature behavior reminded him of her, a little too much sometimes. But then she'd flip a complete 180 on him and actually act authoritative, like now. Honestly, he wondered sometimes how someone like her was really twenty-six and not younger.

He pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind, feeling sad again. She noticed his look and frowned.  
"Hey, are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, it's just...you know, new place."

"Ah..." she sighed in understanding. "Well, I'm going to the lake to wash some things. You got pretty splattered yesterday too. You want some things scrubbed out?"

"That'd be great. I'm starting to take on a definitive nature-smell," he said, giving himself a sniff. Violet laughed a little.

"Maybe head down later to rinse off. There's a waterfall too."

Reese was glad to see his friend in good spirits. Since arriving at the camp the night before, she had been edgy and nervous, probably thinking someone would decide she wasn't worth their time and off her. He'd had the same feeling, so he could understand. But things had gradually let up, a little bit at least. He no longer felt like he would get a bullet to the brain at any second, at least. It was plain to see the other survivors were close, working together in a way that protected them for the most part. After the first rough patch, there was no telling how things would work out for them. Time would tell, but for the moment a rinse off sounded pretty good. Well, after lunch, maybe...

"Thanks. I might just do that."

His friend nodded once and went to the tent, getting the bag of clothes and hauling it up over her shoulder. With everything mixed together, it was hard to determine what was clean (ish) and what was putrid. Washing it all would give her something to do, at any rate, and keep her away from the other campers. She remembered Glenn though, and decided to check up on him before heading to the water. Everyone else was already up, which made locating the young man an easy feat. She quickly strode over to him.

"Hey there, stranger."

Glenn jumped and whipped around, wincing when he moved too fast and pulled on his leg. Violet 'tsked' and grabbed onto his shoulder, keeping him from losing his balance.

"Oh hey uh...Vivi was it?" he ground out, trying to hide the fact that he was in pain.

"That's right," she smiled at his use of her nickname. "What are you doing walking around?"

"Well you see I ah...had to..." he trailed off.

"Had to what?"

"I had to...you know...go."

"Ohh," Violet almost laughed, but covered it up with a cough. "Well, I know I have no right to tell you what to do, but you should really have someone help you. And you shouldn't be putting weight on it like that either."

"I tried to tell him that myself," came a familiar voice from behind her. "The boy wouldn't listen to a word I said though."

She turned to meet the voice, seeing that it was the older man who had helped her load up the day before, and the one who had said the least.

"I believe he may have wanted a 'second opinion' as it were," the man looked amused, if a little tired. He offered her his hand to shake after a moment. "We didn't properly meet yesterday. I'm Hershel Greene."

"And you already know me, no doubt," she nodded, taking his procured hand. "What do you mean by getting a second opinion?"

"I was a veterinarian before all this started to happen. Before you showed up, I was the one who mended everybody when they wounded themselves. I met this little group of ours back on my farm a few miles out from Freeman Lake when Rick's boy was shot."

Violet stared at him strangely for a moment. He hadn't been nearly so talkative the day before. What had changed? He knew what her look was about. Her long pause, and the slightly confused expression said it all.

"You want to know why I'm speaking with you today," he said. It was not a question.

"Er...how did you know?"

"I have daughters, miss Violet. I know that look when I see it. It's a look that says you have a question you're not sure you want to ask. Well young lady, to answer your unspoken question, I'm speaking with you because I see no reason to avoid you."

"I, uh...ha, you hit it right on the nose there."

"Rick's decided to trust you, and so will I. We've fallen on some hard times, so we don't have the luxury of treating anyone like an outcast when we're in need and they're offering aid. Besides that, I admit it's a bit nice to have some of the weight lifted off my shoulders in regards to the...first aid."

"I'm sure you're more than qualified," Violet said. "Veterinarians go through just as much training as doctors. And you're definitely more qualified than_ I_ am."

"Hm. You were just going to start your internship, was it?"

"Yeah, you have a good memory. As you can expect, I haven't had too much practical experience. Apart from the last term there when I had to observe in a trauma ward—and _that_ was an experience, let me tell you—I haven't done a lot in the field. I've done practice surgeries on cadavers and patched up friends before but..." she cut herself off, deciding that cadaver surgery probably wasn't the most cheerful of subjects. "Anyway, I'm not someone to look to for primary care. As soon as we got back from the trip, I was going to start my first year. Funny how the world works. Now I don't think I'll ever get board certified."

"Don't count yourself out just yet. Once the world goes back to normal, I'm sure there'll be plenty of time for you to make up for the chance you lost."

Hershel watched her shake her head in an almost dismissive manner.

"You mean _if_ it goes back to normal. I mean, I hate to burst your bubble, but don't you ever stop to consider that things may not ever get better? I mean, even if things do go back to how they were before, it'll never be exactly like it was."

The woman looked wistful, faraway, probably thinking about things left behind in Seattle. She caught herself, realizing she was again talking of a bad subject.

"Ah...not that it matters. As long as we all have something to hold onto, _that's_ all that matters," she quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, sorry to waste time like this. I've got a lot of things to wash. It was...nice, talking to you. I'll see you around later."

He watched her pick up her bag, heaving it upwards and swinging the strap over her shoulder.

"Listen to the man, will you?" she called to Glenn as she walked off.

The old man stood staring after her until she was out of sight. She had brought up a point he'd considered, but had hardly given stock to. Talking with the woman had left him with some heavy thoughts. He turned, patted Glenn on the shoulder, and returned to his tent.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Violet found a spot where the water pooled in a rocky basin-type area. The lake was clearly man-made, as the sharp, straight line of the falls ahead of her indicated. The entire area featured broken brick walls, perhaps having featured some buildings in the past. The falls too, were built into brick, the water tumbling in a perfectly geometrical shape. The walls provided relative shelter and privacy, rare commodities. She'd spotted a nice, semi-enclosed area with two short, but intact walls just a few feet from the water. Maybe it would be a good spot to move to later on. For now though, she wasn't about to risk making the group nervous by wandering too far. They'd think she was up to something. Hell, just coming out on her own without telling everyone was suspicious. She pushed the thoughts from her mind and dunked her first article of clothing into the pool...and retracted almost immediately.

The water was cold (scratch that, _freezing_), turning her hands red. She could swear that droplets were freezing to her skin. But water was water, and it had been a while since they'd washed their things. The smell of the congealed grue on yesterday's t-shirt was enough to make her grit her teeth in determination. It would get washed, even if she lost her fingers in the process. Living in Seattle, she'd gotten used to much cooler weather than she'd been experiencing in Georgia, which was why she hadn't been shivering much in the cold morning air. But sticking bare skin into icy water was another matter. She spot-cleaned a couple of things before taking a break to work the feeling back into her fingertips. There had to be a better way to do this, preferably something that didn't involve rubbing the skin on her hands raw.

There was a spot where the water was slightly deeper, churned by the falls against the rocks. She stared thoughtfully at it for a moment before inspiration struck. She dumped a few things into the spot and fetched a fallen branch. With this, she stirred the wad of cloth, grinding it against the rocks a few times. After a while she inspected her handiwork. It had worked, for the most part. There were still some seriously ground-in bits which she'd have to get out by hand, but it saved her from getting her fingers frozen more than necessary.

A few minutes later, she heard movement directly behind her in the water. Violet whipped around as quick as lightning, branch held high as she prepared to defend herself. It was only Daryl, and she felt her heartrate slow back down, but her muscles were all wound tight as a spring. His shirt was wet, clinging to every line of his arms and torso and leaving very little to Violet's imagination. He must have been rinsing off in the falls, she thought. He'd been there the whole time? Watching to see if she did something stupid, perhaps?

Dumbstruck, she could think of nothing to say, merely standing there frozen with a tree branch held high above her head.

_He_ wasn't so tongue-tied, having a few choice words for her as soon as they made eye contact.

"You're even dumber than I thought. I coulda been a walker comin' up behind you."

"I could have handled it..." Violet finally found words.

Daryl snorted.  
"With what? Your little twig there? Yer lucky it was me. If I _had_ been a walker, you'd be dead right now."

"Oh ye of little faith," she muttered under her breath. "What the hell are you doing out here anyway?"

"I could ask you the same thing, _Wilkens_." He said her surname like it was a bad flavor, an edge to the word. She didn't like the way it sounded. She probably would have preferred if he called her "woman" or even "bitch." There was just something about the way her name came from his mouth that felt like it might as well have been an insult.

Violet met his glare with one of her own. Neither moved, and she still hadn't lowered her branch. A stalemate. She clucked her tongue in disgust and shoved the wad of wet clothes back into the bag. She wasn't too keen on sticking around to continue being insulted.

"Whatever, it's none of my business anyway."

She tossed the branch off into the dirt and swung the bundle, twice as heavy with the weight of the water, over her shoulder. She began to walk away, clearly struggling with the load. Daryl rolled his eyes and caught up to her in a few short strides, wrenching the bag from her grasp.

"Do you always have to have people do everythin' for you? You can't even lift a little bit with those noodle arms of yours."

She quickly marched after him, tugging on the strap. "I don't need your help!"

"Fine, be my guest then. Carry that bigass thing back to camp. Don't come cryin to me when you get bit because ya couldn't defend yerself."

"Wait...walkers?"

"Spotted two of 'em earlier. Took out one of 'em, but who knows where the other went."

He was lying. Wasn't he? Probably testing her, trying to get a rise out of her, or to see her panic. Even if it was just a joke (albeit a sick one), she felt his words sink home. He did have a point, even if he was a jerkass. Violet silently let go of the strap, allowing him to lead the way back to the others. He didn't seem particularly worried that she'd stab him in the back with a hidden weapon or anything. Then again, if she tried, odds were he could snap her wrist like a dry bit of spaghetti. Her eyes fell on his back, the wet shirt sticking there, too. Wasn't he cold? If he was, he sure didn't show it. She felt her gaze wander lower, cursing herself at the next discovery.

Daryl Dixon had a nice ass. Now _that_ was ten kinds of wrong.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Reese could only stare with wide eyes as the "man with the crossbow," Daryl, if he remembered correctly, came stomping up to the tent and the SUV and dropped Violet's bag of laundry unceremoniously onto the dirt. If it hadn't been zipped, the clothes would have gotten muddy. Pulling his gaze away from that, he saw his best friend sullenly walking behind him, barely keeping pace with his death-march. She shot a glare at the back of the redneck's head, but he didn't catch it as she crouched to inspect the bag.

"Thanks, I guess." She didn't look at him when she said it.

"Whatever. Waste of my time."

He stalked away after that, leaving Reese with many a question. He waited until the other man was out of sight before rounding on his friend.

"Mind explaining what the hell that was? And why were you both wet?"

"I was out washing like I said. The asshole came out of nowhere and nearly scared me to death. Thought he was a walker at first."

Reese's reaction was not what she expected.

"You went _alone_! Are you an idiot? Vivi, you could have been killed!"

The woman shrank back from him, putting her hands up as if he'd aimed a gun at her.

"I was okay. The water's only a few yards away. You can see it from here! And nothing happened! I'm here now, aren't I?"

"It was still stupid! Did anyone even know you had gone besides me?"

"Hershel and Glenn did. I ran into them on the way down there," she assured him.

This pacified him somewhat, but he still looked worried. He gripped her arms, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"And that guy, did he do anything to you?"

"Nah. Like you, he let me know that he thinks I'm a colossal idiot and called me a wimp. That's why he hauled the bag here. He said I probably couldn't even carry it alone. Hey Reese, do I have noodle arms?"

"What?" the young man was taken aback by the question. "Well yeah. You're definitely no she-hulk. Why?"

Violet looked incredibly downtrodden all of a sudden. Reese was only more confused. Had she gone crazy already?

"Well, I'm just going to leave to you stew in...whatever it is you're thinking about. I'm headed out."

"Where?" Violet pulled out of her stupor long enough to look at him as if _he_ was the crazy one.

"To find some edibles for an actual stew for tonight. I don't know about you, but I'd like a cooked meal for once."

"You're not planning on going alone are you?" she rounded on him.

"You mean like you did?"

Violet sighed. "I get it. I was an idiot. It won't happen again."

She did understand the gravity of her actions. Seeing Daryl sneak up on her had been a wake-up call. He very well _could_ have been a walker, or worse, a bandit of some kind. She would remember that. She and Reese hung the clothes to dry before crossing the camp to enlist some aid for their expedition.

That was how the duo found themselves approaching Rick and his family. It was still early in the day, and though everyone in the camp was awake, no one seemed too eager to wander. Rick glanced up from his work of looking over a map. He was trying to figure out where they could go to replenish their ammunition, a shortage they shared with the urban explorers.

"Well hey there. How are things this morning?"

"Not bad. How is everyone else doing?" Reese countered.

"A lot better than yesterday. Hershel says Glenn should be back on his feet in about a week. Thank you again for that."

"We've all got to help each other, right?" he reluctantly asked his next question. "I was actually wondering if I might ask a favor of you."

He had the sheriff's full attention.

"Vivi and I are going to go into the woods to see if there's anything edible. She wandered out alone earlier so I was worried—"

"Alone? Did anything happen?"

"No, I'm okay. I ran into Daryl but nothing happened out there," Violet explained.

"Anyway, I was wondering, if at all possible..." her partner fidgeted. He'd never been good at things like this.

"Spit it out, kid."

"I was wondering if one of you could come with us. Just in case. All I've got is my tire iron. We have Victor's gun in the SUV but neither of us knows how to shoot. We'll not be gone long. An hour at the most. If we don't come back after that you can have all of our stuff."

Rick decided to mull over the idea for a moment. On one hand, if they went out, their findings could supplement what the group already had. On the other, the forest was a dangerous place. Could they really spare the manpower and (possible) ammunition? They'd already checked the woods for anything useful. That ship had sailed. It didn't seem like a good idea.

"If it's game you're after, Daryl says it's pretty slim pickings these days."

"No, not animals. We're looking for plants. Berries, probably, and mushrooms if we can find them," the woman spoke again.

Plants, huh? They hadn't actually pursued that angle yet. It hadn't crossed their mind, but Rick didn't even know if any of the survivors knew which plants were edible. Except maybe Daryl, but he was much more of a carnivorous kind of guy, not one to care for vegetation.

"...alright. I'll ask the others, and if one of them agrees to go with, you have your muscle."

"I'll do it."

Shane had been standing not far from the conversation. He stepped forward, a "generous" volunteer. He wanted to see if his suspicions about the pair were well-founded or not. Daryl had been listening too, though, and he remembered the last time the other man had volunteered to go with someone on an expedition. It had been with Otis, and while he couldn't say that he liked (or even knew) the man, he remembered well what he'd discovered about Otis' so-called sacrifice. It was much the same with the newcomers. He didn't know them, like them, or trust them. If he didn't, Shane definitely didn't. Even so, he did think they deserved a chance to prove their usefulness, something that wouldn't happen if the officer was planning on offing them in the woods.

"I'll go instead," he stepped up to the plate.

Reese looked to him in confusion. Didn't this guy hate their guts? Or maybe he was stalking them. Violet _had_ met him just a while ago.

"You sure?" Rick asked, just as confused as everyone else.

"Was gonna do some huntin' anyway. Two birds, one stone, right?"

"Hm. Alright. You watch yourselves out there, will you?"

Reese gulped. It would definitely be an "adventure..."

Lori watched as they entered the woods. All was calm until she noticed something was amiss.

"Rick...where's Carl?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Violet was definitely not happy with the decision of their escort. Walking behind Reese and armed with his tire iron, she tried to temper her attitude lest she have an outburst.

"You wanna make a little more noise? I don't think the walkers on the other side of the highway have heard ya yet."

She turned to make a face at the hunter, who had just speared a squirrel with his knife. She didn't reply, but his point was taken. She tried to walk a bit more carefully.

Something coming up from behind them was making a lot of noise. All three froze and turned, at the ready for whatever would emerge from the brush. Daryl came within a hair of shooting the Grimes' son as he tumbled out of the bushes.

"Carl?"

"I finally caught you guys! I wanna go too. My mom said I could as long as I stayed close."

Violet shot Daryl a disbelieving look. The wife of a sheriff agreeing to let her son wander into the woods alone to find someone? Not likely, and definitely not with dangers lurking around every corner. Daryl nodded to Violet, the pair having found one thing they agreed upon; this kid was a crappy liar.

"Really?" Violet crouched down to his level. "So if I were to go back right now and ask her, she'd say 'oh yeah, take him with you. While you're at it, can you pick me up a soda?'"

"My mom doesn't talk like that," Carl shot back snottily. "But I'm not lying! She said I could go, that I should learn more about...plant stuff."

"Plant stuff?" the woman's eyebrows shot up. "_Plant stuff_. Kid, this is serious. If your mom finds out you came out all by yourself—"

"It'll be fine, I promise! I asked after you guys left, and then I caught up."

Carl traipsed ahead through the brush, Violet hot on his heels. She cursed under her breath. The boy was a handful, no doubt. All pent-up energy and no patience. Daryl followed quickly. He was getting annoyed with the kid. If he kept running ahead and making noise, he'd draw the attention of every last thing residing in the woods, living or no. He curled his lip in a sneer, about to walk ahead and tell him to shut up himself. But Violet easily caught up to Carl and grabbed the back of his shirt, turning him around so he would pay attention to her.

"Listen up, kid. If you can't keep quiet and stay close, we _are_ turning right around and taking you back. Got it?"

Carl nodded curtly, rolling his eyes. Violet rolled her own and released him. How'd they get stuck with the kid again? She doubted he'd been telling the truth about getting permission. To that end, she was determined to keep him safe and get him back to his parents. She shook her head and continued the stalk through the woods, holding Reese's tire iron tightly. Daryl stayed back a few feet, alternatively scanning the branches above and keeping an eye out for threats at ground-level. She actually felt bad for him having to play watchdog. And now the group was four. Well, he _had_ volunteered...

A few minutes passed without event. The group went slowly, and Carl actually listened and stayed close. He was quiet, too, only speaking in hushed tones to ask Reese a question now and then. Reese was patient with him, answering all he could about the plants of the woods. Sailing remained smooth until a little while later when Carl spotted something and ran ahead.

"Hey, check it out!"

Reese turned to where Carl was crouched by some shrubs. His first thought was that he'd found a dead body, or maybe a walker or something equally horrible. But pushing the growth aside revealed a pleasant surprise.

"Hey, nice." He ruffled the boy's hair.

"What are they?"

"Morels," Reese answered. "Real ones, too. Not those fakes people find that are poisonous. Good eye, kid."

The two worked quickly to gather the small cluster. In the meantime, Violet kept a sharp eye on the surroundings. The silence of the trees was eerie and stifling, like something lay in waiting. It was probably just paranoia, but she wanted to leave the area as soon as possible. The feeling hadn't been there earlier when she was washing clothes. She didn't feel good about Carl's story, either. A fallen twig crunched lightly underfoot as she turned to check on their progress. They had finished, stuffing the fungi into the crown of Carl's sheriff hat.

"Is that enough?" she inquired.

"Oh yeah. These'll give the food a really nice flavor. Too bad there's no meat though. Now that would make a meal fit for a king."

"Never say never," Violet gestured to Daryl, who had a line of something flung over his shoulder. "That is if you're willing to share?"

The hunter grumbled a bit, but offered no protest as he showed the string to them.

"If you city folks can stomach it," he said with a smirk. Clearly, the idea of the pair gagging at the odd flavor of woodland creature was a hilarious one.

On the string were three squirrels, all neat in a row with their bodies hanging upside-down. One rabbit joined them on the line, the soft fur had just barely started to take on its winter shade. Violet stared in fixation at the lagomorph. Before she could stop herself, a question slipped out.

"Did it...scream?"

The other three looked at her as if she'd grown an extra head.

"I...read once that they have a pretty awful death-cry. Did it...?"

"Nah, you'd have heard it. They can though, yeah. Don't normally hunt 'em cause of that." Daryl brushed off her question with a shrug. What did it matter? He gave her one last curious look before turning his attention to Reese and Carl. "If that's all, we'd better get our asses back to camp. I'm sick of babysittin'."

No one argued, following closely behind without a word. Violet's ill-timed question had planted disturbing images in Carl's head. With all that he'd seen so far, it shouldn't have bothered him. But the thought of a dying rodent screeching like a banshee was just...wrong. It was one of those things that shouldn't exist, just like the walking dead.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Violet broke away from the group as soon as they were back by the firepit, going ahead to her tent for the "bag-o-food." Reese followed Carl back to his family's tent so the boy could show off his find to his parents...after receiving a sound scolding. Rick was absent, having gone on rounds to check for his son again, but Lori was there.

As was Shane.

Reese stood back warily. The man made him nervous, even more than Daryl did. He always had a mean look on his face, like he'd start yelling at any minute. Worse, it was clear that he trusted them even less than the hunter. This event with Carl was not going to help things. But what had happened to make them all so wary of strangers in the first place? Whatever it was, it would take a while before things between the man and the newcomers were anywhere near comfortable.

"Carl Grimes! Where the _hell_ have you been?"

Lori was beyond pissed. She'd spend the entire hour searching the camp from top to bottom, even checking the Mute Rats' SUV and tent to see if he was hiding there. She'd been in a panic, just about to organize a search party for him when the group returned. She would sooner die than go through what poor Carol had with Sophia.

"He um...followed us into the woods. He claimed you gave him permission, but we didn't think that was the case. We kept a close eye on him though."

Shane was watching him with a sharp eye, so Reese didn't move.

"Mom, check it out!" Carl was oblivious to the tension, proudly thrusting the hat in his mother's face.

"Is this true?" Lori leaned back just a bit so the brim wouldn't hit her and snatched her son's hand. "What were you thinking? After the farm? After _Sophia?_"

"I'm sorry, I..."

"You're not leaving my sight again, you hear me?" Lori was on the verge of tears. "You march straight over to your father and tell him what you did!"

"Oh no you don't, kiddo," Shane stepped up and grabbed his arm in Lori's stead. "I'm going with you so you don't 'wander off' again."

Reese stood by awkwardly until the pair disappeared. The woman was extremely upset, tears spilling down her face.

"Um...I'll just take these to cook then."

"I'm sorry. I must look a mess right now. Thank you for bringing him back. After what happened back at Hershel's farm, I just..."

"I-it's okay. I uh...thought you guys were going to think we'd taken him, to be honest," Reese confessed. He had expected her to explode at him for not bringing Carl back instantly.

"Oh, honey. We trust you more than that. Well, Rick does. And if he says you're all good people then I guess I should believe him," Lori wiped away her tears. A change of topic was in order. "So what are you doing with those?"

"I was thinking a mushroom and rice stew for dinner. It's been a long time since we've had anything hot. If we cook it over a low fire all day and eat at sundown, we won't have to worry about the fire being seen," Reese explained.

"They safe to eat?" Shane asked suspiciously. He'd returned from walking Carl over, and he probably thought they were trying to poison them, as he kept looking at the hat full of mushrooms.

"Well yeah," Reese replied. "There are toxic fungi that look similar, but most of them have fatter stems and the caps are all wrinkled instead of looking like honeycombs. They do need to be cooked though. They're like rubber otherwise and—"

He froze mid-lecture as he saw Lori with one of the morels halfway to her mouth.

"Don't!"

He lunged for her, intent on swatting the fungus from her grasp. Shane was on him in an instant, pinning him to the ground by the neck and with a gun against his head.

"Bit of a dumb move there, dontcha think?" He pressed the gun closer, cold metal biting into Reese's scalp."What exactly were you tryin' to pull after that stunt with Carl?"

"Shane!"

Lori's shout of surprise drew everyone over, the sheriff leading the charge to see just what all the hostility was about. Violet drew up the rear, looking the most horrified. She dropped the food supplies to run up to Shane and her downed friend.

"Hey! Get your hands off of him!"

"Your little friend here just tried to attack Lori!" the man yelled back.

"How can you know that, huh? If you gave him half a second to explain, I'm sure it's not what you think!"

"Shane, just put the gun down. Let the boy explain himself," Rick reasoned.

"If I don't like what I hear..."

"You'll what? Waste a bullet and bring on anything undead in the area just because everyone around you has to tread on eggshells? You've got _some_ ego."

"You wanna come over here and test my ego out for yourself?" He pointed the gun at the woman instead. Soon, he found a gun to his own head.

"That's enough!" Rick growled out. He was stressed from the situation with Carl, and he was going to end this confrontation within seconds. "Put the damn gun away!"

Shane scowled, but slowly did as he was told and let Reese up.

"Now then. What happened here?" Rick inquired.

"Your wi—Lori was about to eat a raw morel."

"Okay. Why did you supposedly attack her?"

"If she'd eaten that, it could have been big trouble. Morels are perfectly fine cooked, but eaten raw they're just as toxic as the fakes. She would've gone into shock or had a bad allergic reaction. That's why I lunged at her. Not because I was trying to..._attack_ her."

Lori still held the morel in mid-bite. She instantly put it back into the hat and spat in the dirt.

"That's why they need to be cooked for a long time," Reese went on. "It breaks down the toxins so they become safe to eat."

"Is that right?" Rick stood with his hand on his belt, over the butt of his own gun after he holstered it. He stared pointedly first at Reese, then his wife, and finally Shane.

"I think," he said slowly. "an apology is in order."

"I didn't know you'd freak out like that. Next time I'll steer clear."

"Not you, kid." Violet ruffled her friend's hair.

"She's right," Rick agreed.

Shane got a look on his face that suggested he'd rather beat the younger man into a pulp.

"I was only tryin to keep her from getting hurt. Had I known they were dangerous, I'd have stopped her from eatin it myself."

It was as close to an apology as they were going to get out of him.

"Fair enough," Violet cut in. "Do me a favor then. Think before you leap next time, huh?"

The woman glared at him with contempt before picking up the things she'd dropped and heading to the firepit to start the rice.

"I didn't mean to scare you." Reese seemed genuinely sorry as he turned to Lori.

"No harm done, son. Actually, I should be thanking you for bringing my son back safe. And for keeping me from eating something potentially dangerous. Me _and_ my baby." She placed a hand on her belly.

The young man looked startled, eyes becoming wide.

"You're pregnant? Oh, no no no no. We'll have to make a portion for you without any morels!"

"Didn't you just say they're safe cooked?"

"Yeah but they still have trace amounts of intoxicating chemicals. Not enough to be harmful but you shouldn't take chances," he spewed forth the entire string in one rapid line, without breathing. "I gotta let Vivi know."

He scramble doff with the morels to relay the message. Lori felt the corners of her mouth twitch upwards into an affectionate smile.

"Oh, Shane. Now you _have_ to apologize. He's a good kid."

Shane sighed, shoulders sagging in defeat.

"You're right," he conceded. "I'll do it later when everything's cooled down with 'em."

"Make it a proper one this time," Lori urged.

She then left him to his own devices, deciding to join the explorers at the firepit. Rick watched her go with amusement as he clapped a hand good-naturedly on Shane's shoulder. It was both an apology for pulling a gun on him, and encouragement to keep acknowledging the right things. He was still livid with his son, but they'd deal with him in private later.

"One thing at a time, my friend."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"So, do you cook them with the skin on?"

Daryl looked up from his work of cleaning his catch to see the female newcomer watching him. After the situation with Shane and the Grimes family, the group had begun cooking. It was as much to get away from the stress and hostility as it was to feed everyone. Violet's anger was a slow-burning one, something that needed to simmer out.

Daryl had tried to avoid contact with them if possible, but he did agree to contribute the meat from his kill. He may not trust them fully yet, but like the others, he was not about to throw away a chance for a hot meal just because of that.

He had all the guts in a pit he'd dug in the dirt, and was scraping out the carcasses. The sight and smell was a ghastly combination. He planned on filling the pit in with the dirt when he finished, but the woman didn't seem at all phased about the gory sight.

"What's it to you?" he asked back gruffly.

"Just trying to make conversation."

Dinner was well under way, the rice bubbling gently in a beaten pot over the low-burning flame. The cooked morels would be added last, after the meat, and after Lori got her portion. Things had seemed far less tense with the hunter since Violet had confronted him with the video camera. She didn't know why, or if the evidence had helped at all, but he was definitely less aggressive than the day before. Still, she decided to tread lightly. She already had one member of the camp hating her guts. She could do without increasing that number.

"Still seems like it's missing something, don't you think?" Reese was staring into the pot of cooking rice. "Not much of a stew with no base."

"Would this help?"

He turned to meet the new voice, one that belonged to a woman he didn't recognize. She was sort of frail-looking, thin with cropped salt-and-pepper hair. Her smile was kind, if a little sad. She was offering a can of cream of chicken soup from her own sparse leftovers.

"It's perfect, thanks. We haven't met, have we? I'm Reese." He offered a genuine smile in return.

"Carol," the woman replied. Her voice was nearly as frail as her appearance. She handed over the can and took a seat next to Violet, joining her in watching Daryl.

"I was actually wondering that myself," she continued speaking. "I've never watched you cooking them. _Do_ you leave the skin on?"

Daryl looked from one woman to the next, feeling cornered under their scrutiny.

"...'s easier," he mumbled. "Too much work skinnin' 'em when they cook just as easy without doing it. Stays together that way too."

"Seems a shame though, doesn't it?" the woman asked of Violet.

"How so?"

"If they were skinned we could use the pelts."

"Oh," Violet gave a short laugh. "I guess so, but it would take a lot of little squirrel skins to get enough for anything useful. Besides that, I dunno about you, but I'm definitely no seamstress. Reese is much better at all that girly stuff."

She lowered her voice at the last part, as if telling a dark secret. This earned a chuckle from Carol.

"Hey!" Reese spoke up, indignant. "Do you want to eat or not? You seem to be forgetting who's in charge of the pot here."

"I'm so sorry to have offended your delicate sensibilities, Chef Holloway."

He flung a little bit of the uncooked rice in her direction as retaliation.

"Hey! Don't waste food!"

Violet was laughing for real. She looked to the other two. Carol's smiled had grown, and even Daryl had a little smirk. She sat back, content for the first time in ages and grateful for Carol's intervention. Her question to the hunter whether it had been for Violet's benefit or not, had been a first step. Small, but a step nevertheless.

She wondered how long it would be before everything blew up in their faces.

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

End Notes: 

Shane could benefit from some anger management classes, no? Progress is finally being made with the other survivors. A little bit of Carol interaction this time, too. I want her to be a part of this story because while I don't like her paired with Daryl (as I find her to be emotionally weak), I don't hate her as a character. I see her as being the first one to actually befriend the explorers. She also serves as a link to Daryl for them. It's true she's a bit unstable and dependent, but Carol doesn't have a whole lot keeping her going these days. As for Daryl, he still doesn't trust them, but he's always struck me as a character who has to come to his own conclusion about things in his own ways.

Links (just replace the indicated items in parentheses with the actual punctuation and remove the spaces):

_Walking Dead Locales [Elder's Mill Waterfall and Campsite is where the story is currently taking place]_

walking dead locations.c o m (forwardslash)?page_id(equals)140

_The Prison Farm_ [note that I do not own these pictures]

gtf.o r g (forwardslash)beaker(forwardslash)pictures(forwardslash)2007(forwardslash)2007_09_08_prison_farm(forwardslash)index.h t m l

Sorry for the overly long endnotes. Til next time, dear readers!


	7. Batten Down the Hatches

**Author's Note: **Hey there everybody! So, I whipped up a couple of "profile" type pictures for Reese and Vivi. (I feel like a doofus doing it but hey). Here are some links if anyone's interested. Just replace (dotcom) with what it says and remove the spaces and there you go.

Reese (Likeness- Ben Whishaw):

i413 .photobucket (dotcom) / albums/pp216/ froggx85/Reese .jpg

Violet (Likeness- Anna Friel):

i413 .photobucket (dotcom) / albums/pp216/ froggx85/vivi2 .jpg

******-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

**Chapter Seven: Batten Down the Hatches**

******-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

Dinner was surprisingly good. The meat looked very iffy at first, though. The most exotic thing either of the explorers had ever eaten was sushi, but that was far from bizarre. They'd never imagined plating up Thumper or a cute little squirrel. Violet felt like she'd just massacred the extras to a Disney movie when she looked down at her spoon, a bit of meat floating in the stew base.

"Is it squirrel or rabbit?" she squinted at it.

"The question of the evening. Hey, I've got an idea. If you can guess which one it is, I'll do the washing for a month. If you lose, you have to do the cooking for a month. The loser still has to do their own chores too," Reese suggested.

Violet smirked, unable to resist a challenge.

"Alright. But how we we know if I'm right?"

"Daryl can tell you."

Glenn looked to the hunter on the other side of the fire. He was intrigued by the explorers' little game and at how they sort of had their own little hierarchy. He'd noticed they mostly steered clear of everyone else unless it was something that concerned them all. Maybe it was just due to the huge amounts of tension still floating around, or maybe it was simply how they were used to doing things. Either way, their solitude reminded him of another in their group.

At the mention of his name, Daryl looked up with narrowed eyes. He was far too busy enjoying his own stew so that he could retreat to the privacy of his tent as quickly as possible. He had to admit, though, the kid had done a good job. The meal was hearty and filling, and most importantly hot. The cold nights definitely took their toll on the group, and the meal would go a long way towards warming everyone up.

"How about it?" Glenn continued. "Want to put these two to the test?"

"Whatever," he agreed with a mumble. Then he remembered that they'd never had woodland game before and his mood lightened somewhat. "Let's see if ya city rats can even swallow one bite."

"I bet it'll be good," Violet said confidently. "Just like chicken, probably. So how do we do this?"

"We'll both pick out a chunk of meat and show Daryl. He won't tell us what it is until after we've eaten it and we take a guess. First one to guess two-out-of-three correctly first is the winner."

"Sounds good to me. Ready to get your maid on, Pieces?"

"Not unless you're ready to play sweet little housewife," he challenged back.

"Bring it on, kiddo."

Both shut up and fished for chunks of meat within the thick base. Violet was the first to find one, holding it gingerly between her fingers and blowing on it to cool it. She held it up so that Daryl could take a look at it, then took a second to study it herself before popping it into her mouth. The meat tasted surprisingly clean and almost sweetish. It wasn't tough at all and tasted, to her amusement, very well close to chicken. It was good.

"Rabbit?" she guessed.

"Heh, beginner's luck." Daryl smirked at her answer.

Next was Reese's turn. He looked to be enjoying it as well.

"Squirrel."

"Yep."

This repeated, with neither of them guessing correctly the next turn. It all came down to the final round, neither of them wanting to lose. Both held out their chunk of meat for Daryl to identify, then slowly chewed to get a thorough taste. Violet was the first to finish hers.

"This one's not as tender as the other pieces. It's got to be squirrel."

"And you, kid?"

Reese stopped chewing and rolled his tongue around inside his mouth. He was having trouble placing the taste.

"The first two were definitely squirrel, no matter what you say," he reasoned. "This one tastes the same. Squirrel."

Both explorers stared at the hunter, dying to know who had beaten the other. Daryl gave no indication one way or the other. The pair fidgeted.

"So who's the winner?" Reese asked impatiently.

Daryl smirked behind his dinner bowl, gaze darting to Violet.  
"She is."

Reese sat back, dejected and suddenly no longer liking his stew. Violet looked like the cat who caught the canary.

"Too bad I don't have a frilly apron for you."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

As the night wound down and everyone retreated to their respective areas save for the selected watchman, Violet found herself unable to sleep. She'd tried, closing her eyes and turning this way and that within the tent for the better part of two hours, but sleep stubbornly eluded her. Finally, she gave up and groped around for her LED, illuminating the tent to find her camera as well. She sat just outside, the camera screen the only source of light as she had left the LED inside. Pictures moved by, memories of days gone by. Unlike Reese, memories of her old life didn't cause her sadness. There wasn't much she missed, except for the times she'd spent with her two best friends rediscovering abandoned things. And one of them turned out to be a killer. No, her memories didn't cause her sadness.

They made her angry.

She finished with her trip down memory lane, and switched the camera to night-vision. The outlines of the trees and the other survivors' tents took on a greenish tinge as she scanned the surrounding area. Maybe she'd catch sight of a possum or a deer or something. Anything to keep her occupied, really. As Violet swept the camera to the left, just past where Shane was keeping watch, something caught her attention on the screen. Something was moving towards the camp. She used the zoom to try getting a better picture of what it was, and gasped when it came into focus.

Staggering in the darkness and clearly rotting even under the filter of the night-vision; a lone walker.

Violet quickly and carefully made her way across the camp in the darkness. She whistled at the base of Shane's tree to get his attention.

"Shane!" she whispered harshly when she was sure he knew she was there. "We have a problem!"

"What? Keep your voice down! I'm coming down."

He dropped to the ground in a single movement, muscled frame towering over Violet and making her feel just a bit intimidated. The darkness wasn't helping. He saw the faint glow of the camera's screen in her hand.

"It's a walker."

"Where?" he asked her quickly. Asking her why she was up alone at night was going to have to wait.

Violet raised the camera and zoomed in on the spot, showing it to him.

"I'll be damned. Stay right here, don't move for anything. I'll be right back."

She nodded and ducked between the broken walls just two feet from where they stood, camera still trained on Shane as he suddenly pulled out his flashlight to shine it on the path ahead. The walker growled and recoiled from the sudden bright light. Shane took the opportunity to stab it hard once, directly through the temple. The thing stumbled back and he shoved it against a tree and began to beat in its skull with the butt of the flashlight. All of this was visible on the camera, and Violet cringed at the brutality the man had used to dispatch the walker. No mercy whatsoever. Though she couldn't say that was a bad thing, it was unnerving. Shane returned quickly.

"Was it the only one?" she asked him.

"Yeah. Musta just been wanderin'. Pretty rare for them to be on their own like that."  
"Really? We've only ever seen small groups—"

Violet froze, realizing she was talking with the man who had attacked Reese as if it was a normal thing. She remembered herself and drew up to her full height. Not that it helped much. The man was enormous. She glanced toward her tent, separated from her by distance and one mistrusting muscle-bound deputy.

"Anyway, I should get back." She moved to squeeze past, but the man seized her by the arm. She felt her heart skip a beat, blood pumping rapidly through her veins as she tried not to panic.

"Now hold on just a minute," he said to her. He didn't sound angry or anything, but he still unnerved her. She never should have come out. His next sentence was completely the opposite of what she'd been expecting. "About earlier, with your friend—"

"He has a name. It's Reese. And don't you dare call him anything else."  
_'Shit, what am I saying? This guy can break my neck if he wants to. He'd probably make it look like an accident, too!' _On the outside she was calm, but internally she was panicking. But Shane didn't seem all that bothered. He sighed wearily.

"Fine, about Reese. I shouldn't have attacked 'im. I'm...sorry okay?"

Violet stared slack-jawed at him. He was apologizing? What was next? Hugs from Daryl Dixon? He saw her disbelief and elaborated.

"Look, I know I was a dick but you gotta get where I was coming from. I gotta look out for my own. I wasn't wrong."

"Lori's not yours though." Violet blurted out before she could stop herself. The painful reminder made Shane flinch. If he had it his way he'd stalk off and leave her in the darkness, but he'd promised an apology and damnit, he was going to give one whether it was deserved or not.

"No, she's not. But I promised Rick I'd look out for her and Carl when he's not around. If that includes keeping you two away from them, so be it."

"I don't know what reality _you're_ living in, but Reese kind of helped both Lori _and_ Carl today," the woman went on. "Do you even know what it's like to be looked at the way you guys look at us? Like we're a ticking time bomb?"

Yes, he did. He understood her frustration all too well. But _she_ didn't understand his reasons. Neither one of the newcomers knew, so how could they expect them to welcome the duo with open arms? He shook his head in frustration.

"I do know. My best friend looks at me the same way. You can't know what this group has been though. Until you prove that you're _not_ a time bomb, those looks ain't gonna stop. You're just gonna hafta get used to it."

"Have you?" Violet challenged. Her unease was starting to die away, quickly replaced by irritation. She made a noise of disgust and pulled away from him. "Look, we're just going to keep going in circles if we keep this up. So why don't we just stop, huh? I appreciate you apologizing, but I'm not the one you should be saying it to. And if you're not actually sorry why bother?"

"Hey uh...is there a problem here?"

A new voice interrupted whatever retort Shane had been coming up with. Violet turned her attention to the newcomer, a black man she recognized but didn't know the name of. She'd seen him in camp earlier at dinner with the others, but they'd yet to speak. She didn't know his name, either.

"Sorry, who are you?"

"T-Dog," the man answered. "I'm here to take over the watch but uh...is everything alright over here?"

"Just fucking peachy," Shane grumbled, brushing past the two to go back to his tent. The apology hadn't even been 'accepted.' He was no longer needed, so why stay? Why bother?

T-Dog watched him go in confusion, quickly turning to the woman for answers. She, however, was quickly making her own escape.

"Hey, new girl."

Violet froze and bit back a curse. T-Dog had a grip on her arm. She made a mental note to walk with her arms in front of her from then on. His grip was far looser than Shane's had been, though. She turned around, deciding to humor him.

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure everything's cool with you?"

She hesitated before answering him, casting a wary look in the direction that the deputy had gone. He saw her look.

"He say something to you?"

Violet gave a bitter laugh.

"Something? Try everything. Every time he opens his mouth it's to shoot accusations at Reese and I both. Hell, _Daryl_ is easier to talk to than he is. Just what the hell is his problem?"

"Can I let you in on a secret?" the man asked. Violet nodded. "Come sit wit' me."

She obeyed, taking a seat next to him on the broken wall. He seemed friendly enough, and he didn't give her the impression that he hated her guts. Most importantly, he wasn't glaring at her and hadn't grabbed her arm like he was trying to pull it off. It had merely been to keep her from leaving. She smiled a little. Yeah, this guy didn't seem like he had a mean bone in his body.

"So you got a name, new girl?"

"Call me Vivi," she answered. "So what's T-Dog stand for?"

"That counts as two secrets I'll be telling you then," he answered.

"Come on, I'll show mine if you show yours."

"Nu-uh. That's a secret you'd be taking to the grave, new girl."

"I won't tell a soul. Except maybe if I get drunk," Violet smirked, appreciating the banter.

"Oh hell no. I'm definitely not tellin' you then."

"Fine," Violet whined. "What's the other secret then?"

"C'mere," T-Dog gestured for her to lean close, tilting her ear to him. "You ready for it? Brace yourself."

She gave him a sideways look.

"Shane's an asshole."

She snorted with laughter. "Thank you for sharing that most sacred bit of information with me."

T-Dog laughed, already liking this woman. By the smile on her face, the feeling was mutual. He sobered up after that though, voice taking on a hushed tone as he began to explain.

"You gotta understand though, we've all had our fair share of run-ins with folks less than friendly, if you get what I'm sayin."

"What do you mean?"

"A while ago, we were all stayin up at Hershel's farm. Things were goin' good for a while til Rick and Shane brought this one guy back...Randall or somethin' like that. Anyway, he was suspicious as hell. They questioned him for a while til he confessed the group he was with did some nasty things. We didn't really know what to do. If we let him loose, who's to say the little fuck wouldn't go back and tell that group where we were?"

Violet was listening intently to his story. "What happened?"

"Shane killed him," T-Dog announced. Violet looked utterly horrified, even more scared than before. He understood her reaction. It had been his own when they'd learned the news from Rick the first night they set up camp. In time, though, he grew to understand the truth of the situation.

"Now hang on a second, girl. Yeah, it was wrong, cause he decided on his own. Before that though, Rick and Daryl were agreeing that he needed to die. To protect the group, you know? Something changed and they were just gonna let him loose somewhere far out so he would get lost."

"A death sentence either way," Violet muttered.

"You gotta understand, this guy was part of a group who _killed_ people, stole from 'em...raped women before dumping them to die. That's the kind of man he was. That's why they decided to have him go. It was either him or us."

"Still, to kill a man..."

"Dunno why you're acting all disturbed. Rick told us what happened with your friend."

"Victor?" He had told them? Not that it was a huge secret and she guessed it was good that they all knew, but was that the reason everyone was so cautious around her and Reese? "We're not like that though. He just kind of snapped, I—"

"Chill out. I'm not sayin you are. All I'm sayin is that, when it comes down to it, didn't you do the same kinda thing?"

At Violet's stunned silence, he continued.

"We're just lookin out for ourselves. Not sayin you guys are bad people. Hell, so far you've been the opposite. But do you get where everyone's coming from now? We all on edge for good reasons. Especially Shane. He an' Rick have been sorting through some heavy shit of their own. Don't mean I _like_ the guy though..."

"Yeah, I get it." Violet stared at him for a long moment, processing what he'd told her. While she and Reese hadn't physically killed Victor, they had left him to die in order to save themselves. They hadn't encountered other survivors between then and meeting Rick, so they hadn't seen what people were like when they chose a more extreme path to survival. Even so, she had a pretty good imagination. She could easily picture what it must have been like. It didn't explain Daryl's reactions to them leaving someone behind, but Daryl seemed to be an entity all his own within the camp.

"Thanks for telling me that, T-Dog."

"Shit, that sounds weird coming outta your mouth," he suddenly exclaimed

"T, then?" Violet grinned.

"Much better. Go get some sleep, girl."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Things still haven't settled completely with everything that's happened these last couple of days, but we're still short on ammo. So, as much as I hate to say it, we're gonna have to make another run."  
Despite the generally good mood the night before had instilled, Rick's words replaced that feeling with instant dread.

The group was silent. No one was keen on the idea at all. After the last run, they had returned with supplies, sure, but had brought along a new slew of problems in Reese and Vivi. And with Glenn hurt...

"This time, I'm gonna have Shane lead the charge."

Shane looked to his fellow officer in shock. Was this another test? It was a huge responsibility he was saddling him with, one that he didn't think he'd have after their confrontation. Were his efforts finally paying off? He doubted it, what with the tension of the day before with the newcomers.

"You take whoever you want with you into town. Since you've been stationed there before, you know the area a little better than the rest of us."

Oh, so that was it. He should have known. Yes, he'd been to the area before, a long time ago when he had first started off as a deputy. It had been part of a training program, and he honestly didn't remember much about it. He didn't let Rick know that though. He couldn't afford to sit this one out; it was his chance to prove he _could_ make the right decisions. He nodded to him in acknowledgment.

"Alright. Daryl and T-Dog, you're with me," he didn't even need to think about who he'd take with. T-Dog was good for muscle and Daryl was irreplaceable on an outing. Even if he didn't partiularly get along with either man, they were valuable assets.

Neither man protested too much, both probably feeling a bit of cabin fever. Daryl was never one to sit for too long, for one, and T-Dog hadn't seen any action in a while. He was definitely ready to go.

"What about someone to distract the walkers?" Glenn asked. "Normally I'd do it, but..."

Maggie shot her boyfriend a look that showed just how happy she was about him serving as the unofficial "bait." Glenn shut up immediately.

"I don't think we'll need anyone this time around," Shane brushed off the question. "We're not leaving til after lunch though, so if anyone needs something while we're on the run, let us know before then."

The group dispersed, the three men going their separate ways in order to gear up for the outing. Violet watched them go, thoughts swimming in her head before she too retreated. She needed to go over the medical supplies again to see if there was anything they needed.

Reese, in the meantime, took to the firepit to figure out lunch. After the big meal the night before, no one was feeling starved, but something was needed to tide them over to the time they ate, which probably wouldn't be until the next day. He still had to deal with the rest of the clothes from the day before, too, the lot of them hanging halfhazardly on the branches of a tree. It was annoying, but a bet was a bet. He grudgingly started folding the garments, not even stopping when Glenn and Maggie arrived to check up on him. Glenn laughed when he saw that the young man was actually following through with his end of the bet.

"Why do you let her bully you like that, man?" he asked, poking at a hanging hoodie.

Reese stopped what he was doing and turned to the pair, face serious.

"It's not really bullying. And I do it because I love her," he said nonchalantly.

"Whoa, dude. I mean, I'm not one to judge but isn't she a bit old for you?" Glenn tried not to laugh.

Maggie elbowed him hard. "Don't say things like that."

"What? Oh, no. Not like that. I love her in a completely platonic way. She's like a sister to me."

"And you do everything she says just because of that. So you'd say...play Walker bait if she asked?"

"I'm telling you it's not like that. Vivi, she's always taken care of me. As for her 'bullying,' I help her out any way I can. This was a bet for fun. It's not like she has me skinning squirrels with my teeth. She would have gone through with her end if she lost. Plus, you _don't_ want to get on Vivi's bad side, trust me."

Glenn decided to leave it at that. He'd never understand the relationship between the redhead and his older female companion. It would remain one of the universe's secrets.

Violet, meanwhile, was conflicted.

The contents of the medical duffel were splayed out on the ground in front of her, sorted by type. There was no shortage of bandaging and gauze, that was for sure, and there was plenty of material for sutures. What worried her was the lack of disinfectants. A wound closed was all well and good, but infection was a deadly possibility. With antibiotics being so hard to come by, her biggest worry was what would happen if she couldn't clean the wound of whoever was hurt next. What the world must have been like before antibiotics...

Reese would probably know, being the resident history buff. Heck, that was what he'd been going to school for in the first place. Knowledge of days past were like sweet ambrosia to the young man. At any rate, those early doctors certainly had their work cut out for them.

Violet stuffed everything back into the bag and stood. She would seek out Hershel, to see what supplies he had on hand as well. From there, she would know what was needed for sure.

She found him with Glenn, the older man appropriately hounding on the Asian boy to make sure he would rest. She smiled and approached them.  
"Hey, Mr. Greene. Do you have a minute?"

"Certainly. What can I help you with?"

"It's about our supplies. I was just going through my own things and saw that we don't have very much disinfectant. I was wondering if I could have a look at your stuff too, to get a full inventory of everything."

"Making a list for the outing later?"

"Sort of, yeah."

"Alright. It certainly can't hurt. Come with me."

Hershel's supplies were sparse. Since everything at the farm had happened so quickly, he had only a small black bag, the oldschool kind one might see in a cartoon. He still had the equipment for transfusions, along with a few basic tools. There wasn't much else, only a bottle of painkillers which were running low.

"Hm. I can see why you were so desperate for supplies. How come you don't have more than this if you're a vet?"

"My farm was overrun by the dead. We had to leave as quickly as possible, so we only had a few things."

He didn't tell her that he'd almost stayed that night, unloading his shotgun in fury into every walking corpse he could until he ran out of ammunition. That he'd nearly died a fool's death by trying to defend the indefensible was not something he was too eager to admit.

"So that's how you all ended up here," Violet mused. "Well, it's not that I'm worried about being able to actually patch up any wounds. I'm more worried about infections."

"As am I, Miss. We used up most of the antibiotics when Carl was hurt. T-Dog was contending with a blood infection, and shortly after that Daryl got hurt as well. The whole supply went away in a matter of days." He shook his head at the memory.

"Okay. I'll let the others know what we need. Thank you, Mr. Greene."

She wrung her hands anxiously as she approached Shane, still a bit shaken from their exchange the night before. T-Dog and Daryl stood with him, all three about to leave. He turned around before she even got there, making her halt in her tracks. Steadying herself, she closed the distance and stood rigidly before him.

"You need somethin', girlie?"

"Sort of. We don't have anything to clean wounds with and we could use some medicine if possible. But I was actually...wondering if I could go with you."

She knew he would refuse before she had even asked. He didn't disappoint, instantly shaking his head and dismissing her question with a callous wave.

"No. Absolutely not. We can't afford any dead weight."

"Look, I know I was rude to you last night. You're right that I don't know a thing about you or this group, and for that I'm sorry. Won't say sorry for how I talked though, cause you were the bigger ass. I'm following my own advice and not apologizing unless I mean it."

"Is there a point in there somewhere?"

"Yeah. You seem to forget that before we met you all, Reese and I survived all this time by ourselves. You really think we didn't have a suicidal run or two in our time?"

Daryl watched the conversation in silence. None of them had really given stock to that fact. They had found the two, alive and whole, and neither of them were bitten or crippled or anything of the sort. Survivor's instincts? Dumb luck? He didn't know which one the duo had, but he remembered how quickly the woman had reacted to the walker that had tried to eat Glenn's foot when they were leaving the prison farm. Maybe there was some gumption in them after all. If anyone asked him, his own interest in the pair was simply to see just how much they could handle.

"Why not give her a try?" It was T-Dog who spoke, saving him from expressing his own view. "We could use someone quick on their feet."

"Walker bait?" Violet asked, shooting him a look. T-Dog grinned.

"It'd be better if they don't even know you're there."

Shane was the only one who still disagreed, it seemed. He bit his lips together and massaged his temples, trying to control his building irritation.

"You're not getting a gun," he said at last.

"Who would use a gun anyway? They'll draw the attention of every damn thing in the area." Violet pointed out.

"And you'd better stay in our sight at all times," he said, his tone stern as if talking to a child. Violet was tempted to roll her eyes and say "yes, dad" but she schooled her expression.

"I know what it is we need. Plus, we can use the Escalade," she said instead. "More room. It's quieter, and it has plenty of gas."

"How can you argue with that, man?" T-Dog hadn't stopped grinning since Violet asked to go along. Frankly, he thought it funnier than hell that she could make Shane so uncomfortable by sheer virtue of being in his presence. And she was right; they had survived a long time alone. Maybe she knew a thing or two about solo runs that they didn't.

"I'll follow your lead," Violet spoke again. "I promise I won't be a burden."

"...alright. But if you screw this up, don't expect us to let you go again."

"I got it. I won't let you down."

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End Note: This chapter feels pretty short, but it's actually a small part of a much larger whole, which I'm splitting into a couple of smaller chapters so they're easier to read and don't drag. Not much Daryl interaction this time around, but I don't want to "force" he and Violet together. I want their interactions to be natural and believable given both characters' personalities. Also, one thing that bothers me about a lot of Daryl/OC fics I see is that the other characters are completely ignored a lot of the time. I want to show how Reese and Vivi deal with everyone in the camp, not just with Daryl. While this will ultimately be a romance, it is also at its heart a story about the end of the world.

But enough babble from me. Please give that review button some love!

Til next time, thanks for reading!


	8. Dragging Feet

Author's Note: Let's keep on keeping on, shall we? Two chapters in one day for you all. Aren't you lucky people? Hope you enjoy.

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**Chapter Eight: Dragging Feet**

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"I don't think you should go."

Vivi had returned to her tent to pack everything up so that it could be moved out of the way for the Escalade. She finished that quickly and found a small pack in the back of the vehicle that contained the tools they had once used for their explorations; hand lights and a harness, climbing rope, and a pair of walkie talkies. She got rid of everything except the lights and the walkies, and stuffed in some first aid supplies just in case. She decided to leave her small camera in the pack too, out of habit more than anything, and borrowed Reese's tire iron and knife to add to the mix. She stood, finished with her preparations, and pulled Reese into an awkward hug. The other three stood nearby, already set to go. They were just waiting on her.

"I know. But you and I have done a lot more dangerous stuff. Hell, even before this all went down we were doing crazy things. This is just another one of those. I won't do anything to get myself hurt, I promise you."

"It's _them_ I'm worried about." The young man gestured to the men waiting at the side. "They still don't trust us, you know."

"Well, I'm going to have to trust them."

She released her hold on the young man and opened the back door. T-Dog took to the front passenger seat and Daryl took to the back as well, while Shane slowly sunk into the driver's seat. She'd decided since he knew where they were going, it was probably best that he drive. Violet cast one last look back at her companion, hoping it would not be the last time they saw each other. He looked downtrodden, sore, like a beaten puppy. Poor kid. She blew him a kiss out the window as they rolled away.

'Be safe, Vivi."

The Escalade turned easily out of the camp, kicking up only a bit of dust as the tires came into contact with the road. Daryl stared at Violet's profile as the vehicle rolled along. What was it like, having someone waiting for your safe return? He couldn't say he knew even remotely what it must feel like. No one had ever said "be safe" to him. How that must've motivated her to survive... What about everyone else? What kept them going? What about himself?

Sure, he'd had Merle before, but that was different. He didn't give a damn if he came back or not. With his "big brother," it was always about where he could get his next thrill, the next high, what he could do that would make him feel whole in his own way. Merle was Merle, and he never even glanced at his little brother unless he wanted something from him. Daryl turned his attention to the window when Violet silently unfolded a map Glenn had insisted they take. No one said a word, the atmosphere still tense between them. Daryl saw T-Dog fidgeting out of the corner of his eye.

"So Vivi," the man turned around in his seat. "How'd you get your hands on a ride like this in the first place?"

Violet looked up from the map and folded it, being unfamiliar with the lines and streets on the paper. It would be better for one of the others to look at it. She didn't have the faintest idea where they were.

"Not mine. It was Victor's."

"Oh."

She heard the unspoken "sorry" in there and smiled.

"Not a big deal. He didn't actually drive it around everywhere. It was just for expeditions. Said we needed to show up in style. Funny, cause there was never anyone to impress at the places we went, except maybe the police. And if that was the case, we kinda prayed we wouldn't be seeing anyone at all."

"Why would there be cops?"

"Our hobby is...quite illegal. Or _was_, anyway. Can't say that now in this lawless world we're in. Breaking and entering, trespassing, some of the others like us indulged in vandalism too."

She glanced out the window at the surroundings before turning her attention back to the man in the front seat.

"You know, it seems a lot of things people do for fun used to be labeled as 'bad.' Some people like getting drunk, other people like getting high. Urban explorers like getting lost."

It was clear that none of them really knew what she was getting at. She sighed and stared out the window again. T-Dog felt the awkwardness of the silence and moved to fiddle with the radio. Below it was an mp3 player attached to the tape deck. He found the power button and turned the player on.

"This still work?"

"Hey, don't!" Violet snapped, too late to stop what happened next as the black man's fingers found the play button and blaring music filled the cab. He quickly turned the music off, but not before he got nasty looks from the vehicle's other occupants. He brushed them off, single-mindedly turning to the girl in the back to ask his next question.

"Was that Cotton Eyed Joe?"

Violet smacked a palm to her forehead loudly and let loose an irritated growl.

"T, this really isn't a good time to fuck around," she scolded him.

"City girl's right," Daryl spoke. "Ain't no time to be playin' with shit when we should be thinkin' about what we're gonna do when we get to town."

Violet stared curiously at the man. Had he really just agreed with her about something? He saw her staring and she quickly tore her gaze away, but he'd already seen her. He studied her profile again. Was it really so hard to believe that he could sit in her presence for five seconds without blowing a gasket? Sure, he didn't trust her, but it wasn't like he was hounding her with a knife to her neck. He scoffed. _Shane_ was the one more likely to explode, and he could see the deputy's knuckles turning white from gripping the steering wheel in annoyance. No doubt, it was getting harder to keep his temper in check as they neared the town. Daryl saw the woman's eyes dart to the side, in his direction as if to see if he was still watching. He shifted uncomfortably and looked away from her. It was going to be a long ride.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"It's like a ghost town."

Violet's face was practically pasted to the window as they pulled into town, taking in the small buildings and narrow streets. A few cars still remained on the dusty streets, their owners having long since abandoned them. The town was built on a hill, red brick buildings making up most of the structure. No walkers were visible in the streets. That fact was unnerving. Where had they gone, or what did they follow out of town? It was strange, and it couldn't mean anything good.

The first stop was the Senoia police department, an inconspicuous building crafted out of red brick like everything else, with Japanese maple saplings planted in the small grassy areas in front of it. What had once been well-kept lawns were overgrown and dried out from the autumn weather, the cooler temperatures turning patches of it brown. A police cruiser was crashed through the glass doors, the long-dead officer visible inside. He had likely been pinned during the crash, unable to escape and possibly devoured by walkers. Or maybe his had been a prolonged death, slowly starving with no hope of rescue. Shane pulled the Escalade right up to the doors and shut off the engine. He needed a moment to think. While it was true that he'd trained with the officers who served in that building many years ago, his memory of the time was weak. He could hardly recall the names of the officers who'd trained with him, let alone where anything in the precinct was located. This was a problem.

"Hey man, are we gonna go or what?" T-Dog spoke after a while.

"Just shut up. I'm trying to remember something," Shane harshly dismissed him. The man was steadily grating on his nerves through out the journey, compounded by his further annoyance with his poor memory.

"What?"

"I can't remember where the confiscated weapons were kept. That's what we're here for."

"Wouldn't that be written down somewhere? Like a map or something?" Violet asked from her back seat. Shane shook his head.

"Not for a small precinct like this one. It'd be a locked room, likely one that only a couple officers had access to."

"There's no way you'd remember a small detail like that," Violet unbuckled herself and moved to open her door. "I'll go in and have a look around."

"What? NO. There's no way we're leaving something like this to you. Do you even have a weapon?"

She held up Reese's tire iron, then patted the pack at her side.

"I've got this, and a knife in here too. There's not enough space in there for long-distance weapons. Anything lurking in there would be on you quicker than ants on dropped candy. Not to mention any noise would echo through the whole damn place."

She continued on her track to exiting the vehicle, not taking no for an answer. Shane quickly opened his own door and seized her arm. She quickly jerked it out of his grasp, glaring daggers at him.

"You don't even know what it is we're looking for. Better that you just stay here where you're outta the way and can't get us killed," Shane was adamant.

"How can I get anyone killed if I go in alone?" she retorted. "And you don't even know where this room is, or where the key could be. You're no better off than I am."

She took a step back and reached into her pack, pulling out one of the walkies and shoving it into his hands. The other one she clipped to the back pocket of her jeans. The small pack was closed around her waist, a strap over one shoulder. Shane seized her yet again.

"You really need to stop fucking touching me," Violet hissed. He released her and grit his teeth.

"Listen, if you are going in there, you need to know what it is you're looking for. The room should be easy enough to find, but when you get in there there's probably gonna be lockers. Don't bother with guns unless you can carry em. It's what's in the lockers that you wanna get. If there's any ammo at all, that's where it'll be."

"...you're actually letting me do this?" she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"You wanted a chance, so here it is. _Prove _that you ain't gonna drag us down."

"Hey man, I don't think that's a good idea. What if she—"

"She said she could do it, so let's see if she can do it." Shane raised his voice, cutting off what T-Dog was going to say. "Rick put me in charge of this thing, but since everybody here thinks they can do a better job of gettin' what we need, fine. Let's see you all pull it off. I'll just sit back and play cabbie while you idiots run the show."

"Whatever, man. You're being too harsh. She's gonna get herself killed in there."

"Hey," Violet protested.

"Sorry. But what happens when you have to leave and your hands are tied with all the shit? How you gonna fight off the walkers?"

The woman sighed, leaning heavily against her open door. She looked to the glass doors, then scanned the street across from the building before returning her attention to the SUV. The distance from the vehicle to the doors was only a couple of feet. She thought back to her raid on the pharmacy when Reese had been hurt before. Back then, the distance was much greater. She remembered having to lead the creatures around the parking lot and ducking behind a downed vehicle before they lost sight of her and she could return to Reese. That place had had walkers wandering in the lot though. It wasn't emptied out like this whole town seemed to be. It would be much easier than that time.

"I still say it's suicide." T-Dog continued arguing with Shane.

"It's her call. She's the one who wants to go alone," the other man countered.

Daryl, who had been silent the entire time, finally moved. He opened his own door and picked up his crossbow, quickly standing outside and looking to the building as well. He slammed his door shut, getting the attention of the other three.

"I'm sick of listenin to this bullshit. I ain't trustin' somethin' so important to the group to some newbie. You can talk out your asses all day long or for however long ya want, but sittin' here ain't gettin' it done. Let's go, woman. If you wanna go so badly then you're gonna learn how _we_ do things. Sides that, your noisy ass would get killed 'fore ya even got through the door."

That shut everybody up. Violet didn't agree or disagree either way, silently following the man to the broken doors. She turned back momentarily to convey a message to the other two.

"You might wanna move the SUV back from the doors a little. If either of us comes running out, it means things'll be right behind us. We'll have to loop around to lose 'em if that happens, and if you're right there they might get in to you. We'll be quick, and if something goes down I'll try to keep you updated over the Walkie. That is...if the noise won't attract anything."

"C'mon, enough chit-chat, let's go!" Daryl gestured for her to follow and Violet joined him, falling easily into step behind him. Carefully, they maneuvered through the broken door, vanishing into the darkened station.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The lights had all died a long time ago, electricity a non-existent creature comfort of the past. There was a little bit of light in the station from the busted windows and doors, but not enough to illuminate the entirety of the building. It wasn't long before Violet reached into her side pack and found a clip-on flashlight. Batteries weren't a worry, as she had extras in her pack and she'd been using the lights sparingly. Between the one she was using, the larger lights, and the long beam lights back with Reese, they'd have enough illumination for every member of camp if they wanted it. Their hobby often involved going into dark places, and light was necessary for the photographs.

She attached the light to the pack's shoulder strap so it would point straight ahead and allow her hands-free use. Because she was the lightholder, Daryl allowed her to take the lead instead and fell back just a step or two. He was feeling pretty irritated with the whole situation. His sharp eyes scanned the shadows for any movement. At the first sign of anything, he'd happily let them have it with his knife.

"So where the hell would we find a key?" he snapped.

"Behind the main desk, maybe?" Violet suggested. "Shot in the dark, but maybe there's a key rack there. Barring that, maybe it's on one of the officers."

"We're screwed if that's the case. No tellin' if one of em might've walked off with it literally."

Violet didn't like the thought of that. If the one with the key had become one of the deadites, there was a strong chance he or she wasn't even in the building anymore. Hell, if that person was a walker, they could be gone from the _city_ by then.

"...let's hope that's not true."

The pair moved slowly to the area behind the desk, where Violet began to search the drawers and the mess of papers for the key, or at least something that would help them find it. There were a lot of records and files, but nothing useful so far.

Daryl watched her carefully. He couldn't figure out her motives at all, that bit of information lost somewhere between her sarcastic banter and the gear she carried with her. She'd given them bits and pieces about herself; her story about her friend Victor, for instance. They didn't know everything though. He doubted they'd _ever_ know everything. Some people liked their secrets a little too much. Not that he was one to talk, since he had his fair share as well. She seemed alright on the outside but like himself, she mostly stuck to her own area of camp. His guess was that she was just so used to spending her time around Reese that she didn't realize her avoidance of everyone else heightened the tension. It was like she wasn't even making an effort to disperse what they thought of her. At least, not to the ones who still carried mistrust. T-Dog seemed to have taken a liking to her, a fact that Daryl thought was a mistake. They'd grow close, then she'd turn around and stab him in the back, or she'd find some other way to let him down. Everyone did, sooner or later.

"Nothing here," Violet's voice shook him from his thoughts. "Guess we're going to have to do it the hard way then."

"Why be dumb about it? Let's just see where the damn door is first. Whole thing's a waste of time 'f ya ask me," Daryl said.

"What makes you say that?"

Daryl gestured around the lobby. The whole place was trashed, papers and garbage littering the floor. Blood splatters were barely visible on some of the walls, and as Violet directed the beam across the floor, they could see that there was a booted foot visible around the corner. This put the pair on alert, Daryl leading the way to where the rest of the body lay motionless. It belonged to an officer, large chunks of flesh visibly missing from his face and body. His skin was wrinkled and tight, the body having been rotting for a while. Violet gagged and covered her mouth from the smell. He'd likely been killed early on in the chaos, his rotting body picked at by carrion eaters.

"Think about it, city girl. Whole town's empty, not even a walker in sight. Look at the state of the damn place. Someone's been here already. If you think we're the only ones thinkin' about the lockers, you're dead wrong."

"...I guess you're right. But it can't hurt to take a look anyway, can it?"

He didn't answer. He already knew that they'd find; more dead bodies, more rusted blood, and an empty room. He nudged the corpse on the ground with his boot, and when it didn't move, he walked on ahead.

"Suit yourself."

The halls ahead were short, the prison not seeing a huge amount of use in its time. Thus, there was no need for massive cell blocks. There were a couple of holding cells at the very end of the building beyond their sight, but the precinct served mostly administrative purposes. The idea of finding anything useful was slowly dying as Violet and Daryl moved deeper. It was like an office building, each door accompanied by a small plaque displaying the room's contents or chief operator. The one they were looking for was at the very end of the current hall and, luckily, slightly ajar. Daryl had been right. Someone had been there before. The stagnant air leaking from the gap produced another question; was whoever had visited still there?

Both of them froze at the doorway, neither particularly eager to open the door to find out what was inside. The smell of decay mixed with the stale air coming from the room. There was something there, something dead. Violet could hear raspy breathing coming from inside. Turning to Daryl in the dim light, she saw that he heard it too. It was he who took the first step, kicking the metal door so that it flew open. As soon as the room was in clear view, Violet instantly flipped off the flashlight.

She'd only caught a glimpse, but that was all she needed. The room was full of five of the dead ones, all of them devouring the body of an officer who looked recently dead. He'd probably been holed up in the station for a while, maybe using that very room as his base. She put a hand on Daryl's arm, not noticing him flinching away from her in the darkness. Thankfully, he took the hint and they moved backwards, feet slowly sliding across the linoleum hall to avoid making noise. The walkers hadn't seen them. All they'd seen was a flicker of light, none of them having looked up at the new prey. Violet planned to keep it that way. They could smell them in the blackness, however. The scent of fresh pumping blood was strong, strong enough to prompt them to begin the hunt. They could hear the walkers growling, trying to pinpoint their scents. If they kept backing away, they could make enough room to start running before the creatures gave chase. It was inevitable that they would find them, though.

But they needed to get into that room to search it. The question was simply how. Backing up and luring them out one at a time seemed like a good plan. It would be hard for the creatures to locate the survivors by scent alone. As long as they were quick and quiet, they'd be safer.

Things were going fine, though slow, until Shane went and ruined things.

"Hey, what the hell is goin on in there? You've been gone for ages! Come in!"

The loud voice broke over the walkie talkie, loud crackles and static mixed into the noise.

"Shit! That asshole just got us killed!" Daryl swore loudly.

There was no point in being quiet any longer. He unsheathed his knife and took a ready stance as the woman next to him braced herself.

Hands shaking, Violet switched the light back on and gasped. The walkers were a mere arm's length away.

And they had backed themselves right into a wall.

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**Ending Notes: And so the supply run begins! Again, this is only a small part of a larger whole, so be ready for more very soon. These next few chapters will be much more action-oriented, but if I can find a good place to fit it in, I'll try to break up the happenings with some stuff about the guys back at camp. Til next time, dear readers!**


	9. Hanging by a Thread

Author's Note: Another chapter for you all. I'd like to thank all of you who have reviewed, favorited, or simply read this story at all so far. I may not have gotten to replying to your reviews, but I really appreciate you taking the time to let me know what you think. Thanks a ton, guys! Also, ever since I've started making Evil Dead/Army of Darkness references, all I can picture is Merle all decked out with Ash's shotgun and chainsaw arm. Who else is seeing it? If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you guys are missing out on a pop culture classic.

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**Chapter Nine: Hanging by a Thread**

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The most dangerous thing Violet and the Mute Rats had ever done was sneak into an old missile silo in Nevada. The place had been patrolled by a lone guard, but the danger lie within. Their mistake was in not looking in front of themselves, too busy taking in the sights above as they entered. As soon as they'd passed the threshold, she'd fallen over some old equipment and cut herself on the broken edge of an old pipe. It had sliced right through the side of her neck, dangerously close to some major blood vessels.

The trip had ended in that instant, dreams of finding long forgotten and still active weapons thrown out the windows. She still bore the scar from that day, the wound having required stitches and a series of shots. It remained as a thin white line that stretched from her collarbone to halfway up the pale column of her throat, and a reminder to always keep a mind to your surroundings. In fact, after that incident, the group decided to make a list of official rules for expeditions.

-Trust your instincts.

-Always keep a mind to your surroundings.

-Stay close to each other.

-Keep more than one light on your person at a time.

-Leave everything exactly as it was before.

-Know how to get out.

-Never explore while under the influence.

-Safety equipment is a must.

-Never go on an expedition alone.

-Never enter a place humans weren't meant to go.

She was pretty sure her current situation was in direct violation of rules 5, 6, 8, and probably 10 as well. She stood stock still, too horrified to do anything. She could only stare into the faces of death that were literally walking towards her. Such had been her last-second reaction until Daryl shoved her roughly to the side, away from the grasp of the walkers. He moved around the other way, placing himself in the open space of the hallway instead of against the wall. The pair was now separated, each on either side of the crowd of walkers. Two of them had their attention fixed on Violet, but the others all thought Daryl to be a more delicious kind of morsel. The sharp blow he'd given her to move shook her to her senses.

She had to do something, fast, or they'd both be killed. She didn't know if the hunter was armed with anything more than his knife, and she didn't have time to look. She raised the sharp end of the tire iron high and braced herself, throwing her weight forward so that the metal sank through the cheek of the closest walker. It staggered back a bit, impaled but still very much alive as it turned its head. The metal tore through its flesh as it ripped itself off of her weapon. Bits of skin and decaying muscle stuck to the end, but Violet payed it no mind as she drew back and tried again, this time landing the tool through its upper jaw via the gaping mouth. She suddenly got an idea.

"Move to the side!" she shouted.

Daryl had just stabbed his first walker through the side of the head, dropping it instantly, when he heard the woman shout at him. He didn't have time to protest as she shoved the impaled walker towards the second one, putting all of her strength behind the movement. The walkers collided and stumbled back into the two still standing. The fallen walker became a sort of speed bump and they lost their tentative footing in the narrow hall, falling into a heap on the floor.

Daryl took the opportunity to stab another walker, but the blade of the knife bent as he lost his own footing and slipped to the floor, the walker still squirming around alive on top of him. His only close-range weapon was no good to him now. Two walkers remained as Violet ripped the tire iron from the skull of the one she'd felled. Frantically glancing about, she saw that one had Daryl pinned as the two still active stumbled to their feet. He held the walker back with both arms, hands on the sides of its head as the thing snarled and snapped at him.

Violet unzipped the bag at her side and plunged a hand inside, fumbling around for something she could slide over to him. Her fingers closed around the blade of the knife she'd borrowed from Reese. At some point, assuming she made it out of this alive, she'd have to get her own weapons. For now it was all she had. Not caring that the metal was cutting into her palm, she crouched.

"Daryl!"

Hearing his name brought his attention to the woman, crouched a few feet away and still separated by the two walkers. He struggled to hold back the creature pinning him with one hand, readying his other as Violet slid the knife across the floor to him. He picked it up rapidly, hand gripping half of the sharp blade as he brought it down on the walker's skull. The tip embedded itself a couple inches in, and Daryl took a better hold of the weapon, drawing back to strike again like the tail of a scorpion. The walker went limp. He shoved the dead weight off of himself and sprung to his feet with the knife in hand. He wasted no time in grabbing hold of the next walker, landing a crushing blow on the side of its head with his fist.

He was pissed. Nothing had _ever_ pinned him down like that before. He was merciless, beating the creature with no remorse. Violet watched for just a second before remembering the threat right in front of her. It still had its attention on Daryl, so she thought she could surprise it from behind.

It whirled around before she could even take a step, seizing her by the hair and shoulders in a death grip. Now she was struggling with all her might to push it off. The tire iron had clattered to the floor at some point during the chaos. She couldn't push it back, the drooling jaws closing in on her steadily. Panic, tears, nausea, and fear built up in her chest, and she let out a terrified scream.

Then, just as suddenly as it had started to attack her, it was torn away from her by one very angry Dixon. Violet took the chance to seize the iron from the floor and aimed for the walker, which had been shoved against the wall in the narrow hallway. She crushed its skull in a single blow, all her panic lending her extra strength. She didn't stop beating it, even when it fell to the floor and ceased movement. Not even when its head was caved in to a gory pulp, no semblance of facial features left over. It was only when Daryl approached her and pulled her away that she stopped. Both of them were splattered with gore, both panting for breath. Neither said a word as they picked their way around the bodies and entered the room.

Daryl moved to the dead officer. Not much was left of him, most of the flesh eaten down to the bone. There wasn't even a tiny chance he'd rise as one of them; his head housed a large bullethole. It wasn't worth wasting a bolt or using the knife.

"Looks like the poor bastard shot himself soon 's they got in here."

Violet leaned over to the side and vomited as discreetly as she could. "Discreetly" being loud retching which made one of Daryl's eyebrows rise.

"What'd I say?" he jested.

"Not you. The whole near-death-experience thing is what did it for me."

"First time's always toughest to stomach," Daryl said with a smirk.

"I'll give you that one," Violet said as she wiped her mouth clean. "Maybe one day I'll graduate to _not_ spewing my lunch after almost having my throat torn out. Hold out on the gold star until then, will you?"

Daryl allowed himself a dry laugh, but then took a good look at her.

"If it bit ya—"

"It didn't. It was close, but it didn't. You pulled him off in time. I..I almost died because I was an _idiot._"

He brushed past her, not having even an ounce of sympathy for her. If she learned a lesson from this event, good for her. If not, she was probably better off dead.

"Least ya can say that without shame."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The room was, in fact, where the officer had made his last stand. There was bedding and a bottle of water, along with a few food wrappers. This confiscated weapons room had drawers and shelves, not lockers.

What was left of the weapons were sorted by type. Daryl rifled through a drawer containing knives, each tagged with the date of seizure. The knife he'd used to put down the walker was ruined, the metal bent and useless. Most of what was in the drawer were pathetic little switchblades and butterfly knives. It was only at the bottom that he found a good sturdy hunting knife, and even then its edge was dull. It would have to do.

Violet, meanwhile, secured several boxes of ammunition. Someone had been in the room before, other raiders probably, so there wasn't a lot of useful ammo left. She took it anyway, three boxes of .22 ammunition, though none of the group used .22 gauge weapons if they could help it. It was as good as anything to Violet. There was but a single box of 9mm rounds leftover, which she also took.

Whoever had been there before had taken the most useful things, not even leaving any guns that were worth their while. There probably hadn't been much in the first place though. It was a smaller city, and probably didn't see very much violent crime in its day.

She did spot a sturdy-looking cane, hand-carved by the look of it and coated in hard resin. Maybe she could use it as a blunt weapon, and it didn't require her waiting until the creatures were literally right in her face. She laughed a bit at the thought of some elderly man beating someone with it, which was probably what got it seized in the first place. It was only when she picked it up and part of it slid loose that she saw what it really was.

"A sword cane? Oh, hell yes. I'm laying claim to this."

Daryl saw her find and rolled his eyes.

"Blades in those ain't worth a damn. Can't even cut paper with shit like that."

"I'll have to sharpen it then. Can't be that hard," Violet shrugged.

"Whatever you say, city girl. At any rate, place's no good. Trip was a bust."

Violet couldn't help but agree with him.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Shane and T-Dog were at a loss.

There had been no answer when they tried to contact the two inside the police station, and even after subsequent tries got no reply. Something had gone wrong. They debated going in immediately, or waiting a few minutes to see if they came out alive. Shane, for all his talk, was hoping nothing had happened. If something had, not only had they lost a valuable member of the group (Daryl), but Rick's trust would be lost to him for blowing the mission. He'd been given a job to do and promised to deliver, but if he mucked this one up, he'd mucked up his last chance. He shouldn't have let them go in alone.

Just when he was about to arm himself and enter the building himself, he saw a light flicker in the glass doorway. It was the woman, flipping off the flashlight clipped to her pack. Daryl maneuvered through the glass after her. Neither looked to be hurt on the surface, but they were absolutely splattered in gunk and blood.

"Jesus," Shane angrily greeted them as they opened the back doors and sunk into their respective seats. "What the hell happened in there?"

"Whatcha _think_ happened?" Daryl shot back. "Walkers. We could have avoided 'em if ya hadn't decided to play with that damn walkie."

"The place was picked clean," Violet offered from her spot. "Got a couple boxes of ammo but there wasn't anything worthwhile in there. Just a bunch of deadites."

"Lemme see," Shane demanded, gesturing for the bag. Violet handed it over and pulled the sword cane across her lap. Beside the woman's supplies, there wasn't anything there that would be useful. The .22 bullets just weren't concussive enough for the walkers. He'd seen them used, and seen the monsters just keep on going after being shot with the small caliber cartridges. And there was too little of the 9mm. If they had more, it would make a difference to the group, but this was just insulting. He threw the bag to the floor of the cab in frustration.  
"Damnit! We can't go back empty handed like this!"

"So we won't," T-Dog spoke up. "We'll drive around an' see if there's anyplace that might have something. Pawn shops, maybe. There's a whole gold mine to be had at pawn shops."

"Alright. We'll find a place and look. But this time, no more suicide runs. It'll be me and T-Dog goin' in. The two of you can carsit."

"Fine," Violet could still see the gaping maw in her mind, teeth gnashing as they approached her neck to tear it out. She shivered. Yeah, she was perfectly fine with sitting this one out.

It only took a few minutes for them to find a pawn shop. Violet remembered there being one on almost every corner back in Seattle. It seemed there was a similar phenomenon here in Senoia. The building was tiny and gray-colored, the window on the door barred to keep would-be vandals from breaking in. Violet didn't even move to get out of the SUV when Shane and T-Dog left, leaving she and Daryl in silence.

For a few minutes, they just kind of sat there, neither too keen on making conversation. But she kept eying him, and it was grating on his nerves.

"You got somethin' to say to me?" his voice made her jump.

"Ah...well, you really saved my ass back there. I was trying to think of how I should say thank you."

"You wanna thank me?" his tone was condescending. He was letting her know just how stupid he thought she was. "You wanna thank me, you stay away from me. Can't be wastin' my time lookin' after your sorry ass."

Shocked, and slightly offended by his answer, Violet decided maybe it was best to remain silent until the others got back. But secretly, she'd made her mind up. She had to make some sort of peace with him, or life in the survivor's camp was going to drive her insane. She didn't mind avoiding Shane, or care if he continued to be an aggressive egoist. Something about him rubbed her the wrong way, so she would be quite satisfied to steer clear of him. But at least she understood why he didn't trust her. With Daryl, she had not even the slightest clue why he was so adamant about avoiding interaction. Why it was so important to her, and why she felt she had get to the bottom of his distaste for her, she had no idea either. It was just one of those things that...were.

T-Dog and Shane emerged from the pawn shop a few minutes later, looking defeated. They were empty-handed. So this had been a bust too. She watched their "leader" slam his head against the steering wheel a few times when he was back inside with them.

"...what now?" she dared to ask.

"Gonna hafta find someplace else," T-Dog answered her. "You got any bright ideas, Vivi?"

Violet had to think about that one for a minute. What kind of place would have ammunition, wasn't too far out, and hadn't been raided already? Any specialty shops or sporting goods stores probably would have been cleaned out already. Other pawn shops weren't any good, either. If one was a bust, they probably all were. So what was left?

"...you guys have a Walmart around here? Or something equivalent?"

"There's a place not far, yeah. Why?"

"Food and electronics would have been taken already, but there's only a small chance anyone would go back there after the initial outbreak." This time it was Shane who spoke. He saw what Violet was getting at and agreed. It was as good a chance as any. If they could solve their problem there, they could be back before it started getting dark.

"There'll probably be walkers, though. Any busy place like that would be prime hunting ground for them," Violet pointed out.

"Then we have to use all the manpower we got if the place's overrun. You sure you can handle it?"

Violet nodded. Now that she'd had a chance to calm down, the incident in the police station seemed like nothing. She tried to reason out the situation. She'd overestimated herself, sure, but the space had been a lot tighter and visibility was low.

She could handle herself much better in open spaces. Not that the walkers would play fair, she reminded herself. She _should_ logically be able to defend herself in any situation. She'd promised she wouldn't weigh them down, but so far had failed in that endeavor. She groaned.

"I'm going to have to. If it helps, I can stick to the back where I'll be out of the way."

"Not gettin' out of this one, city girl," Daryl interrupted her train of thought. "You're the one with the lights, remember?"

She could have sworn that he looked oddly satisfied at how uncomfortable she was at hearing that.

"Shit," she mumbled. "I was hoping you forgot about that one."

A new destination in mind, the SUV pulled through the empty streets of Senoia, down city blocks and around a blockade of abandoned cars. They had passed through the downtown area, now headed to more residential streets. Schools, lawns, and cornerstores all passed the windows as Shane drew upon his vague memories of his time in the town to direct them to its lone department store.

It was in a tiny strip mall, a shady-looking "get cash quick" place and another pawn shop sitting next to the store. A little down the way were a pet groomer's, a flower shop, and a hairdresser.

But Violet's attention was focused on the largest building, the sign made of red glass with neon tubes inside that once lit up as a crimson beacon at night. A smaller sign above it displayed the store's slogan, and together it read "Always Fresh. S-Mart."

Violet felt her mouth open in a grin as she struggled to hold back her laughter. She expected a man with a shotgun and a chainsaw arm to come running out at them at any minute, and was honestly a little disappointed when it didn't happen. The others had no idea what she was so amused about. She'd have to tell Reese about it later. Those had been his favorite movies, and she was a bit ashamed to admit that she knew them by heart too.

"What's so damn funny?" Daryl dared to ask.

Violet decided not to explain the joke.  
"Alright," Shane brought everyone to attention. "We're not goin' in there without a plan, so listen up. Everyone stays close. The girl here will take the lead since she's got lights and the place'll be dark. T-Dog, you'll stay with 'er and make sure you guys don't get cornered by walkers. Daryl and I'll take up the rear. Guard your flank and keep your eyes open at all times. We'll all go straight to the sporting goods with no detours. If somethin' happens and we get split up, stick with the person closest to you and get your asses back out here. There're a bunch of exits. Find a way out. And if you can't, _make_ one. Let's make this our last trip of the day."

The four got out of the SUV and approached the store, the lot empty and foreboding. As they neared the automatic-doors and saw more smashed-out glass, Violet stopped in her tracks, gaze fixated on the red glass sign. It was still bright outside so it was hard to tell, but it looked like the sign was on. That was impossible though, wasn't it? There was no power anywhere in the town, and there hadn't been in a long time. T-Dog saw that the woman had stopped and fell back to see what the hold up was.

"What's up?" he looked up towards the sign too, trying to guess what it was she was looking at.

"Something's not right."

"You sure you're not just being paranoid? You did just have a near-miss back at the station. It could be nerves acting up."

"No, it's not. Look closely," she directed his attention to the faint blue glow of the 'always fresh' sign. "That shouldn't be on."

"I don't see it," the man squinted at the sign.

"I'm telling you, it's on. It shouldn't be, but it is."

"Most places like this have backup generators though, don't they? Could be that."

It was a reasonable enough assumption, but as the automatic doors slid open when they approached, the backup lights high above the aisles became visible too, and Shane's plan needed a slight change. Violet took up the rear instead, unable to shake the suspicion she had about the place.

Rule number one; always trust your instincts.

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Endnote:

I just want to take a second to mention a point that I think is important. To all you fellow writers out there who get discouraged and give up writing a story because of a lack of reviews, I think you should write first and foremost for your own enjoyment, not because of a fan demand. While getting reviews is of course, fantastic and encouraging, you should never write a story with the sole intent of becoming popular. If I like writing a story, as I do so much with this one, I will stick with it until the end just because I have that much fun with it. So write, regardless of how big or small your following is, be kind to your reviewers, and most importantly love what you do. Til next time, dear reader!


	10. Crossfire

Author's Note: Hello hello everyone! I see I have some new readers, those of you who've added this story to your alerts. Welcome to the story! ...or if you were previously reading it already then welcome back? This chapter deals with more of the supply run, and we get a brief glimpse of some time back at camp. As for this first part, I definitely had a specific song in mind when writing the first section. I like to imagine this song playing over the intercom, sort of distorted and echoing. YouTube(dotcom)/watch?v=gAmbWGS49H4

Enjoy!

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**Chapter Ten: Crossfire**

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The flickering lights overhead cast unnatural shadows across the shelves and floors. Over the intercom, a strange, dissonant, cheerful song played somewhat muted. It sounded like an old tune one might hear over a gramophone, music with saxophone and snappy piano with some crappy, indecipherable singing thrown in. It was distorted as it echoed across the store. There was a low electric hum coming from the lights overhead, and every step seemed painfully loud.

"This is damn freaky," T-Dog observed as he picked up a shopping basket.

Violet silently agreed, looking from one side to the other as they walked. She had a special sort of feeling about grocery stores, since her very first encounter with one of the undead had been in one. Though she had thought it all a part of a movie like Victor, looking back on the event was terrifying. Like that one, this store looked like it'd been ransacked and wrecked horribly. But it was strange, almost organized in its chaos, like someone had cleaned it up or at least made the attempt to. Even stranger was the complete absence of Walkers. There wasn't even a corpse in an aisle somewhere to pop out and surprise them. They were all on guard anyway, but it seemed that the entire store was empty.

They passed by the electronics section, feet crunching over bits of broken glass from display cases. Shane's prediction had been correct. People had all but cleaned out the big-screens and laptops, blu-ray players and CDs taken as well. Amusingly, the bargain bin of DVDs had been dumped out onto the floor, as if in distaste. The song playing on the intercom skipped, as if caught in a loop. The noise was disturbing, and it didn't stop, dragging on the last line of the song three times before fading out. Violet couldn't make out what it had been, but she was glad that the song was over.

They had arrived in the sporting goods section. Several of the shelved items had been taken, but apparently no one had gotten into the locked displays of ammunition. These were made of tempered glass, and cracked to show that someone had tried really, _really_ hard to get in and failed. It had probably been a quick and panic-fueled attempt, because as soon as Shane stepped up and performed some kind of trick with the hinges, the prize beyond the glass was theirs for the taking.

"Hell yeah! We hit the jackpot! Nice call, Vivi!"

T-Dog gave the woman a hearty pat on the back. He and Shane immediately began stuffing as much as they could into the shopping basket, but Violet and Daryl stayed back. Violet kept glancing wildly about, as if she expected something to burst out of a wall. To her, the whole scene was playing out like something out of an Indiana Jones film. Would a flamethrower suddenly ignite them after popping out from the cases? Was it one of those things where if you didn't replace the items with something else, a blade fell from the ceiling and cut off your hands?

The woman's behavior had Daryl on edge, along with his own hunter's instinct. It was something that was hard to explain. In essence, it was somewhat akin to stalking a deer into a clearing to land the felling blow, only to find that it was someone else's kill the whole time. Violet caught his eye and gripped her sword cane tighter. They'd found one more thing they agreed upon. Something was wrong.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Reese, finished with his self-imposed chores, found himself going a little stir-crazy. With nothing left to keep his hands and his mind busy, he was feeling pretty useless.

_I should have been the one to go,_ he kept saying to himself.

He'd been constantly moving since Violet had left on the supply run, never at rest. Finally, after hours of driving everyone crazy asking for things to do, he'd gone to Vivi's tent to retrieve the box containing Victor's old gun. They hadn't felt right about having it in the SUV, where it would be hard to get to in a pinch. And at least in Violet's tent, no one would wander in without permission, everyone respecting the little privacy they had left. Thus, there was very little danger of it getting stolen.

His intent in getting the gun was not to blow his brains out or to go postal on the camp or anything of the sort. He hadn't gone off the deep end just yet. Rather, he intended to ask a favor of Rick involving the gun. The fact that the firearm was hidden in its box kept anyone from knowing or wondering about his little quest as he crossed the grounds to the Grimes' tent.

Lori and Carl were just inside, and the flap was open. The woman smiled up at him as he approached.

"Hey there. Come looking for Rick?"

"How'd you know?" Reese was incredulous. Lori simply laughed.

"Lucky guess. He's out in the woods. Should be back in a bit."

"Thanks."

Reese nodded to them, leaving the pair to finish their work of looking over an old math textbook. Was that a part of a punishment for Carl's wandering, perhaps? Nah, it had looked more like a regularly occurring thing. Reese pitied the kid, having to do homework even when the world had ended.

Rick hadn't gone far, his back clearly visible as Reese entered the woods and approached from behind.

"Hey Rick, sorry to bother you but..."

He trailed off as Rick whirled around in surprise. One hand held up his revolver while the other concealed his crotch. Reese turned beet red, realizing he had just interrupted the man in the middle of taking care of business.

"I'm so sorry!" he quickly turned away from the officer. "I should have just waited for you to get back to camp! Dear god, I'm _so_ sorry!"

Rick zipped himself up discreetly before turning to the flummoxed young man.

"Hey now, no big deal. We're both men here. So what's the emergency?"

"No emergency," Reese was having trouble making eye contact. "I was just hoping to ask you a favor."

"What is it? Something wrong between you and someone at the camp?"

"No, no, nothing like that. See, I was just, uh...thinking. With Vivi off doing something important, shouldn't I make myself useful too?"

"You're doing just fine s'far as I'm concerned. You cooked us that dinner last night. And you kept my wife from getting sick. Don't think I've forgotten _that_."

"Well, historically speaking, it's usually the male members of a species who provide for their herd or flock, as well as defending the territory from invasive species. The exceptions to this are generally birds, particularly the emperor penguin. In this scenario, the males are left to care for the young while the females hunt in the cold arctic waters for as many as months on end. Further examples include the—"

"Whoa, whoa. Take it easy there, Einstein. Did you come out here to ask me something or to lecture me about animals?" Rick held out his hands in a gesture of surrender, effectively stopping Reese's motor mouth. Surprisingly, the young man didn't look too embarrassed at having fired off like an electronic encyclopedia.

"I'd like to learn how to shoot, sir," he finally managed to spit it out.

"And that has what to do with penguins exactly?"

"Nothing, I just—"

"Relax, kid. Just playing around. I'd be happy to teach ya, but I have to say that Shane's better at that sort of thing. Sure he's got a temper at the best of times, but he knows his stuff."

"You two seem like you've been through a lot," Reese observed.

"Me an' Shane? Yeah, things ain't been all that great lately, but he's still my oldest friend. There's no such thing as a fightless friendship," Rick looked wistful for a moment, but didn't let it distract him too much. "So you wanna learn how to shoot. I don't have a problem with it, so long as you follow the rules I lay down for you to a 't.' Only other problem is we don't exactly have quiet weapons. You'd risk drawing walkers."

"Victor's gun has a suppressor," Reese informed him. "He test fired it once inside his apartment. Worst decision ever, and we were damn glad no one lived below him at that time, but it hardly even made a pop when it went off."

"What kind of gun is it?" Rick was suddenly intrigued.

"Have it right here. Takes .22 long range ammo, but that's as far as my knowledge extends."

Reese handed over the box and Rick wasted no time in opening it to examine the contents. It was a metal case with eggcrate foam padding. Inside were just the gun, a few cleaning tools, and a single box of ammunition. He turned the handgun over this way and that after making sure the safety was on and the gun was empty.

"A Browning Buckmark Whisper," he assessed. "Is this a Tactical Solutions suppressor? Not bad. Got a five and a half inch barrel, with a ten round magazine. A nice, reliable gun you got there. Your friend had something special in mind when he picked this up?

"Not really. He just thought it looked cool," Reese confessed, earning a laugh from the sheriff.

"Well, it's a fine gun for learning. Easy to use, easy to take apart and clean. Which is the first thing you're gonna learn after gun safety. This thing's greasy as hell."

"I'll go find something from the camp."

"Then I'll meet you back here. Do me a favor and let Lori know what's up, will ya?"

"Will do."

Reese practically flew back to the camp, excitement swimming through his veins. He conveyed his message, a hasty abridged version of the conversation before speeding to Vivi's tent to search for some kind of cleaning cloth. So hasty was he that he didn't see poor Carol until he nearly knocked her over.

"God, not again. My eyes are in my feet today. You okay?" He helped steady the woman.

"For a second there I thought you were running away from something horrible," Carol laughed it off. "I'm just fine. Where are you going in such a hurry?"

"I asked Rick to teach me some shooting, but we need to clean the gun first. I was just headed to find some kind of cleaning cloth. Dunno what we'd have though..."

Carol took his hand and kindly led him to where she'd been staying, one half of a tent shared with T-Dog. She didn't really mind the man, and it kept her from feeling completely alone at night. Everyone shared anyway. She dropped Reese's hand and began to rummage through her sparse belongings for something he could use, finally coming up with a worn-out floral shirt, one of the nicer things she owned.

"Here, you can use this."

"I can't take that from you," Reese insisted. "I know you guys are struggling as it is so I don't want you to go without..."

"Please, it's the least I can do. You've given us access to your supplies without question. Why wouldn't I help you?"

"...thanks then. I really appreciate it." Reese gently took the shirt from the fragile woman, offering her a warm smile. "Hey, why don't you come learn how to shoot too?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. I mean, unless you already know how. Then I'm kind of being redundant. But from an anthropological standpoint, it's always been beneficial for women to know how to defend themselves against threats in case of a mate's death or extended periods of time away from the home and—" He shut off the encyclopedic mumble and turned to Carol again. "But if you don't know how, I'm sure Rick would be happy to teach you. Hell, even if you do know, you want to join us? You look like you're looking for something to do."

"I am at that. Thanks for the invitation. I think I'll actually take you up on it. Maybe I could learn a thing or two after all."

Carol actually felt grateful for the young mans' invitation. She'd been thinking about Sophia again, mind drifting to that day she'd seen her innocent child shambling out of Hershel's barn, one of the undead. She'd felt so helpless then, and the day the farm was overrun. How much more could she take, she wondered? How long was she going to be battered along the road before the cord snapped?

Reese's kindness was appreciated, more than the young man even knew. He didn't know what had happened with her daughter, so he didn't look at her with the same pity that everyone else did. He just saw her, at most, as a tired woman looking for something to keep herself occupied. And in a way, that's exactly what she was.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Their next stop was to the pharmaceutical section of the store, where shampoo, soap, toilet paper, and first aid supplies were kept. There, Violet grabbed several bottles of peroxide and isopropyl alcohol to add to the basket. They raided the actual pharmacy next, the tiny partitioned room housing several types of antibiotics and painkillers. The basket was full to the brim at that point, so the others double-checked what they had grabbed.

Violet, for one, was itching to leave the store. They had everything they needed, so why linger? The music had started up again, the exact same ditty as before. That was weird. Unless someone had set it to play on a loop, why would it? Thankfully, the others didn't seem to want to stick around too much longer, either. It had been a trying day, full of one let down after the other. She nodded to them and began to lead the way back to the doors, the flickering lights and the dissonant music putting speed to her steps.

Finally, they reached the doors, the automatic mechanism triggering and sliding the glass panes out of the way as the foursome exited the store. Daryl and Violet stepped through first, followed by Shane. But when T-Dog went to step through, a piercing wail filled the air as he tripped the alarm.

"What the hell? Why would that go off? The backup power shouldn't be directed to the alarm system!" Violet covered her ears to block out the noise.

"Let's just get goin'!" Daryl suggested harshly. "That goddamn racket could draw walkers."

Before they could take so much as a single step, a loud crack rang out, scaring the living daylights out of all of them and making them duck.

"What the hell, was that a gunshot?" Shane shouted over the alarm.

"Oh shit!" Violet looked to T-Dog, the last one to exit the store, and began to panic.

The basket and all its contents had fallen to the ground, but it was not her concern. T-Dog was bleeding all over the sidewalk, hands clutched to his chest as his own blood ran between his fingers. He'd been shot. Violet pried his hands away to have a look.

"No, no, no, no, no. Oh god. This is bad. Guys! One of you help me with him!"

Shane ran forward to comply with her request, throwing one of the man's arms over his shoulder and lifting him to his feet. Daryl quickly gathered the fallen items and stood back to assess the damage. T-Dog had been shot in the chest just beside his shoulder. Whoever had taken the shot had been aiming at his heart.

Another shot rang out, shattering the sidewalk a couple of feet from where they were standing. Either the gunman was a crappy shot, or they were deliberately missing.

"Out of all of us, it's the black guy who gets shot. How fucked up is that?" T-Dog choked out.

"You're gonna be fine!" Violet assured him, though her voice was shaky as if she was unsure of it. "Where's that coming form?"

Daryl scanned the area around them, gaze falling onto a figure retreating over the lip of the florist shop.

"Up there," he gestured to the spot.

"Fuck!" Violet shouted. "We're sitting ducks out here! We need to get the SUV over here! We should try to move T-Dog as little as possible."

"If we can't move him, how the hell are we gonna get outta here?" Shane spat.

"I just _said_! One of you go get the Escalade and bring it over here! Whoa!"

Yet another bullet hit the pavement, whizzing over Violet's head as she ducked. Whoever it was, they were trying to lure them out of hiding.

"What if we just go? Leave T-Dog here and then—"

"_Hell_ no!" Daryl and Vivi both shouted at the same time.

"I may have left someone before, but that was different. That was because I had no choice. I'm not abandoning him to die here!" the woman elaborated.

"That wasn't what I meant!" Shane ran a hand over his scalp in frustration. "I meant we'll go to the SUV while T-Dog takes cover here. It'll provide us with cover until we get back. That way we're not out in the open like this. The fewer of us are exposed, the better."

"I don't know how else to explain this to you, but that bullet nicked an artery and if I don't do something right _now_, T-Dog could bleed to death right here in your arms." Her skin had gone pale, a stark contrast to the dark red blood on her skin and shirt. She was shaking. "I can't leave him. I failed Victor. Who knows if he's alive or not? That's on _my_ hands. And I'm not letting that happen again! T-man, I'm sorry. This is gonna hurt like hell."

Violet shoved her fingers straight into the bullet hole, feeling for the damage and then pressing right up against the bleed.

"I've never treated a real bullet wound," she confessed. "We have to get him back to Hershel."

"I thought you said you were a med student!" Shane shouted in disbelief.

"I am! ...was! But I told also told you all that I hadn't even started my internship yet! Look, arguing isn't going to save him! Daryl! You go get the Escalade. Shane left the keys in the ignition so you can just go and come back. Watch yourself!"

Daryl made a run for it, not even looking at the rooftop where he knew the gunner was lining up another shot. He ducked into the vehicle and threw it into reverse as soon as he heard the engine come alive. A sharp sting in his neck made him wince, and he heard something clip through the door on the other side. Sure enough, a fresh bullet hole decorated the car door, and it had grazed him on its way out. A line of blood ran down to his chest, staining his shirt as it went. He shook it off, more worried about getting back to the others and concerned that the city girl would clam up, unable to help anyone.

And whoever the gunner was, whatever his or her motives were, they were deliberately trying to take them down. There was absolutely no way the shooter could have mistaken the group for walkers from that vantage point.

It had been a trap.

******-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

******-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

**I take absolutely no responsibility for any anger or strong feelings at the cliffhanger at the end here. **

As for details about the gun Reese had, my father shoots recreationally at a range as well as reloading his own ammunition. It's one he owns (well, his is a Buckmark, not a Buckmark Whisper) so I asked him some specifics about it. He gave me a weird look when I did and then said I'm going to have to go out to shoot it with him sometime. I have an awesome dad.

Til next time!


	11. Basket Case

Author's Note: Hey, all! I've got a pretty intensive chapter for you all this time around. At least, I think it is. Not much else to say, so enjoy!

******-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

**Chapter Eleven: Basket Case**

******-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

Violet never really could stomach the sight of blood.

Ever since she was a child who scraped knees left and right, the sight of the red substance leaking from a wound struck her as unnatural. Blood was something that was meant to stay inside of you, something that you shouldn't ever have to look at. It was just one of those things that shouldn't be, like sneezing with your eyes open.

Even later, after she'd graduated from the harsh awkwardness of puberty to the even harsher stage of adulthood, visibly flowing hemoglobin made her just a tiny bit sick. Yet at the same time, it was oddly fascinating. Such a simple thing, the red liquid, and yet so very complex, enough that one could not live without it. This mix of horror and fixation produced an odd feeling in her, one she couldn't really describe.

She wasn't sure how she managed to keep her fingers in T-Dog's wound while they moved him into the back of the Escalade. But as the vehicle sped away from the death trap at S-Mart, she felt herself panicking. She wasn't the only one, T-Dog's breathing was shallow and quick and she could feel the quickened pace of his heartbeat literally right beneath her fingertips. He was dying, and she couldn't remember for the life of her how to fix that.

The only thought running through her head was of a memory, of a woman bleeding out her last on her living room couch, a bullet having ripped through her and embedded into the wall. Then, after that, the memory of Charlie Redmond dying on his carpet because of her friend.

Because of her failure.

What good was all that education, anyway? She could treat small wounds, sure, and Glenn's leg had been no problem, but when it came to wounds like this where all the visible damage was concentrated in a single small hole, she felt helpless. All because of a stupid, small chunk of metal.

What a waste of time and money to train someone who froze like a deer at the mere thought of a gunshot wound.

Distantly, she became aware of someone calling to her. Her head snapped up as she blinked herself out of her daze.

"You said you were gonna do something!" Shane seemed to be in the middle of a rant at her, most likely screaming obscenities at her which she had tuned out.

"W-what?" she was still not fully attuned to the situation.

"T-Dog!" Shane reminded her. "He's going to die cause you're too busy in your own little world! Even if you haven't treated one, you gotta know _something_. So quit sittin' there and fix it, ya dumb bitch!"

Shane's tone was harsh, bringing tears to Violet's eyes at the ferocity. But they served their purpose. She shook herself out of it and finally saw how bad things had gotten. T-Dog couldn't seem to focus on anything, and he had started shaking. That was enough to drive her to action, wracking her brain for the answers.

"Shit! He's going into shock! Listen, I need you to keep pressure on the bleed. So when I count to three, I'm gonna pull my fingers out. You have to put yours _in_. Find the pulse-point and press against it as hard as you can."

"_Then_ what?"

"Then...then I'll..." she trailed off, trying desperately to remember the procedure from observations in the trauma ward.

There'd been one particularly bad one, she remembered, one that had severed the femoral artery of a man's leg. The surgeons she'd been shadowing had acted quickly to try saving the man's life, but she couldn't recall what they had done. She didn't remember if the man had lived or not, either. The fact that it was a gunshot had everything to do with it.

If it had been a knife wound or a burn or even a severed body part, she would have remembered. The only thing she saw when confronted with this was the face of the woman in her living room, eyes that matched Violet's going blank as the life ebbed from her body.

"Where the hell are you?" Shane snapped at her once again. "Come on, _think!_ Are you really that useless?"

"No, I'm not!" Violet yelled back. "I'm trying to remember what to do!"

The man's anger, though shocking and hurtful, acted as an anchor and reality came crashing back to her. The blood, T-Dog's sweating and strained face, and her fingers in his chest reminded her of just exactly where she was. This was not the time to be drowning in her weakness.

"Damnit!" she cried out. "Let's just do it! One, two, three!"

She pulled her fingers out and instantly her clean hand shot out to seize Shane's wrist, guiding his hand toward the wound. A bit of blood leaked out before Shane found the source of the bleed and his fingers replaced Violet's.

_'Think, damnit!'_ Vivi berated herself. '_What's the first thing to do?' _

The answer sprang immediately to her mind, as if her old professor was right there asking the question himself. Stabilize him. Keep his vitals going and help him regulate his temperature. This had been on every single exam she'd ever taken. She could do this. She wiped her hands on her shirt before pulling it off over her head.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" Daryl snapped from the driver's seat.

"Now's not the time to be shy about girl parts versus boy parts!" Vivi griped. "He's going cold. We need to warm him up and we don't exactly have blankets! Besides that, I don't see either of you volunteering! Gape all you want, but I don't have much to work with back here!"

She covered T-Dog as much as she could with the shirt, rubbing his arms to keep the blood circulating.

"T-man," she tried to get him to focus on her. "T-man, I need you to do something for me. I need you to talk to Shane. Can you do that for me?"

"A-a-about what?" the man gasped out.

"Anything. Your life before this, your favorite places to eat. Hell, even the last porno you ever watched is fine. Just keep talking to him. I need you awake."

So T-Dog spoke. His voice was shaky and his words were clipped, and he chose to talk about his last years of school. The most important thing was that he was continuing to speak. As long as he could talk, he'd remain lucid and conscious. While he went on and on, Violet took a moment to collect herself.

_'Okay, he's breathing okay and he's awake. Not good or bad, but I've got to get that bleeding under control. How?'_

Stitching was impossible. Not only did she lack the materials, as they had been left at camp, but it would be impossible to see the bleed well enough or to reach it without the proper light. A normal hospital would use a combination of clamps and suction before repairing it. She had none of those things, so what was left? Her gaze darted frantically around the cab for something, _anything_ useful. It came to rest on the small round car lighter.

It was a bit on the thick side, but if she maneuvered it correctly she might be able to angle it into the wound and cauterize it. The pain would probably cause T-Dog to pass out, but there wasn't a whole lot that could be done about that.

"...pull over," she suggested to Daryl at last. "I'm going to need your help."

Daryl immediately complied and the SUV came to a halt right in the middle of the road. He waited for the woman to explain what she wanted.

"The lighter," she said.

Daryl instantly knew what she meant and pushed in on the circular end. Then, when it popped out and he handed it to her, he waited for further instruction. He wasn't sure why he was hanging so avidly on what she was saying, but none of them were thinking crystal clear at the moment. He was more concerned with the fact that if T-Dog did die, they'd have a ticking time bomb literally in their laps.

Did Violet know that everyone reanimated no matter what? He didn't think so, looking at the woman's panicked face. And if she did, she certainly wasn't thinking about it. Her concern, and everyone else's, was saving the man bleeding to death all over the seats.

"I need you to hold him!" the woman explained shakily. She sounded on the edge of tears. "This is...this is not going to be pleasant."

"I think that's a fuckin' understatement, city girl. Best just get on with it."

"Y-you're right. Okay, pull your fingers out, Shane!"

Uttering a silent apology, Violet didn't wait a second longer before she shoved the heated lighter through T-Dog's torn flesh. The wound was large, and it was only through the gunman's shoddy aim that he'd managed to survive this long. But she still had to force the metal through at an angle to get to the bleed. The amount of fluid that had oozed from the wound made it hard to see the hole, and the lighter grew slick. She had to stop and Shane had to put his fingers back in. A quick wipedown on the soiled shirt covering T-Dog's upper body and a reheat were needed before she could try again. She finally found the right angle and could hear the sizzle of flesh, but it was made all the worse by T-Dog's screaming.

All of the doors had been thrown open, the "check seat belt" chime sounding over and over as the man's animalistic cries rose above the streets. Violet had never heard such a thing in her life, not even observing in the ward. Tears were stinging her eyes as she pulled the lighter away with a hard tug. Bits of skin stuck to the end where she pulled it out.

The metal was much too big around to get fully into the wound, so it had only been partially cauterized and some blood still leaked out. But most of it was under control. That was the most important thing, no matter how sick it made them all feel.

"T, you are a definite badass," Violet said between jerky breaths.

The man had remarkably been able to stay conscious through the entire ordeal. She had major respect for him. He managed a weak smile and lay back against the seats, thoroughly worn out. He closed his eyes as Violet worked to pack the gauze she had in her pack into the singed hole. Her hands were badly shaking, and it was only through Shane's intervention, taking over to unwrap the packaged gauze, that they were able to pack it. For the moment, they were out of the woods.

She hadn't failed yet.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

A faint popping noise could be heard as Reese took his first shots at a dead tree in the woods. True to his laimk the gun didn't make much of a sound upon firing. It was only upon the shots' impacts upon the tree that a noticeable noise was produced.

Reese emptied the magazine into the tree, then checked that he gun was completely empty and flipped the safety on, exactly as Rick had shown him. He lowered the weapon while the officer inspected the target.

"Not bad at all, kid. Your shots are clustered together pretty well. You're definitely a fast learner."

Reese was practically glowing with pride upon hearing the praise. His smile was wide and bright. From her position on the sidelines, Carol watched with amusement. The young man was definitely enthusiastic and quick to pick things up. Given time and a little more practice, he could be a great asset to the group. And she found while watching them, the young mans' smile was contagious. She wondered briefly if Sophia would have grown up to be like him. She surely would have been fond of Reese.

But Sophia was dead and gone. Nothing in the world was truer than that fact. Reese saved her from wandering any further down that road of thought when he turned to her with his big grin.

"You should give it a try now," he said.

"Oh, no. I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not? Rick spoke up. "it's a good skill to have, and we've got time to go over it again."

"Well, I...it's just that..." Carol's protests were weak.

"I'll reload the magazine. Why don't you two have a break while I do that?" the sheriff seemed dead-set.

"Well, if I have to," the older woman gave in.

Reese took a seat next to her, rubbing his eyes and blinking a few times. He'd been squinting down the iron sights of the gun and his vision was mildly blurred.

"What do you think?" Carol asked of him.

"I think Vivi should learn this too. I'm going to suggest it when she gets back," Reese was still smiling.

"You're confident she'll come back," Carol observed.

"She always does. She promised she would, anyway."

"You two must be very close. How did you meet, anyway? I doubt it was in school, with your age difference and all."

"Nah, it wasn't. Vivi and I...and Victor, we all met in the same place. All three of us were in therapy at the time."

Reese's answer was so simple, so honest and straightforward that the older woman was taken aback.

"Therapy? What for? Um, that is if it's alright..."

"It's fine," Reese dismissed her unease with a wave. "I can't tell you about Vivi. That's her story to tell. But me, I was there because of my sister."

"You have a sister? Where is she in all of this?"

"Sadie, yeah. And well, I _had_ a sister. She died a long time before all of this. She was driving me home from my senior prom. A drunk driver blindsided us, T-boned the car. Sadie died instantly but I was in a coma for a few days. Statistically, women are more likely to suffer serious injury or death in an accident than men. I knew that, but it didn't make it any easier when I woke up in the hospital and found out she was gone."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you. It's not my place."

"No, it's okay. I didn't take it well when I found out, though. I started acting out, got deeply depressed and started thinking I'd join her. My parents stuck me in weekly sessions after that, and the rest is history."

"Then, your 'exploration,' that was your group's own personal therapy," Carol guessed.

"Yep, you hit it right on the nose." Reese sighed and gave his arms a good stretch. "...If anything, I'm almost glad Sadie died before all of this. At least I know where she is, and she doesn't have to deal with the chance of becoming one of those _things_."

A flash of pure, raw sadness crossed Carol's features then, so much so that it looked like she'd been struck. Reese's brow furrowed in worry.

"Did I say something bad? Vivi's always telling me I need to watch myself or one of these days someone's going to, and I quote, 'shoot my sorry ass.'"

"No, it's nothing you did. I...I lost someone too."

"Oh," Reese's cheer had all but died away. By the look on the woman's face, the loss was still something fresh in her mind. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"It was my daughter," Carol went on. "Sophia. She got lost one day, and we looked for her for what felt like ages. When we finally found her again, she...she was one of them."

Reese had nothing to say to that. He and Carol sat in silence, the young man feeling guiltier than he'd ever felt. He should have just shut his mouth after saying the bit about meeting in therapy. He could have thought up some excuse. But no, he'd just had to go on.

"We've all lost people," Carol broke the silence. "You, me, your friend, Shane, everyone. Even Daryl has lost someone. I think my biggest fear in all of this is how weak it's still making me..."

"I don't think that being upset at losing someone makes you weak," the man said suddenly. "Look, Vivi's much better at this stuff than I am, these...pep talks. But I think that what you're doing, living on even if you may not feel like it...that makes you brave."

Tears sprang to the woman's eyes at Reese's words. She had worried that he'd look at her with the same pitying expression everyone else did. Instead, though he didn't know it, he had given her strength. She'd only known he and his friend for three days, but he'd shown more kindness and understanding than anyone ever had. Maybe it was just because he was so young still, or maybe it was because of his friend. Either way, she was grateful. She turned to him to thank him for his advice, but before she could get a single word out, Hershel's oldest daughter came running through the brush panting for breath.

"Rick! They're back!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

They arrived in camp a broken assembly. Shane and Daryl supported the injured T-Dog, and a very shaken Violet brought up the rear. Reese had run from the woods as if a devil was chasing him, but he froze in horror at the sight of his friend, blood-splattered, pale, and shirtless, and ran to her immediately.

"What happened? Vivi, you're covered in blood. Did you—"

"I'm not the one hurt," she assured him. T-Dog was still partially wrapped in her shirt. "We need to find Hershel, and fast."

Reese peeled off his shirt and, without a word, offered it to her. The shell-shocked woman stared at him for a moment before accepting it and pulling it over her head. It would freak everyone out even more if she showed up in her state of undress. She pulled him into a quick hug of gratitude before speeding off after the men, leaving Reese to follow after her.

The whole of the camp followed soon after, a gathering born of horror and confusion. Rick joined them too, gathering what had happened through a clipped exchange with Shane.

"We were ambushed. We were on the last leg of our run and found a place but there was a goddamn gunman on the rooftops nearby."

"You mean it was a trap?"

"Damn well looks that way."

"Hey man, I'm alright now. I got to have my head in a pretty girl's lap," T-Dog interjected.

"He's _not_ alright," Violet pushed between them to make her point heard. "He lost way too much blood out there. He's delirious."

"We'll see what we can do for him," Hershel assured her. "I need you to walk me through what happened."

"We were coming out of a store. Got stocked up pretty good, but something was off the whole time. Just...a weird feeling."

"What happened _after_ he was shot?" Hershel asked impatiently.

"We got him into the SUV and kept pressure on the bleed manually. He started going into shock so I got him warm. There was too much bleeding so I...we..." Violet couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence. The smell of acrid, burnt flesh was still stuck in her nose, and the sound of T-Dog's cries stuck in her ears.

"Heated up the car lighter and burned it shut," Daryl bluntly finished for her.

"Y-yeah. Partway, anyhow. I packed the wound after that and we made sure he stayed awake on the way here."

The veterinarian took in the young woman's appearance. Her hands were covered with dried blood, her skin paler than usual, and her eyes wide and haunted. It was clear that having to do what she did disturbed her.

"Well, given the resources at hand and your apparent...state of mind, I'd say you did everything you could've done. I'll take it from here. Why don't you go get yourself cleaned up?"

"But I...he needs blood. He needs stitched too and I think—"

"I'll take it from here," Hershel repeated. "It's clear to me that you're in distress, Miss Violet. You can't do anything right this second. You're no good to anyone as you are."

The statement hit a nerve with her, even if she already knew it to be true. She didn't listen, wringing her hands and shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"What blood type is he? I can go on another run, find a clinic and get some frozen plasma. I'll go right now."

Reese stepped forward to take hold of the distressed woman's stained hands.

"Come on, Vivi. Listen to yourself. You're freaking out on us here. You're the one in shock. Let's go get you cleaned up."

"Real gem of a doctor there. A regular basket case, that one," Shane snapped at the pair.

"_Excuse_ me?"

Shane turned to the young man and his friend, anger radiating off the former in waves.

"He probably would have been dead by now if it wasn't for Vivi. You don't know us, so don't you dare call her that until you do."

Shane stared. So the kid did have a pair after all. Before, when Violet had spoken to him during the night watch, he had assumed that she was speaking for her friend. Apparently not.

"Still," Hershel interrupted. "The fact remains that T-Dog _does_ need blood. He may not make it through the night otherwise. Does anyone here know his blood type?"

Not one person was able to answer the question. They were out of luck. Or, they would have been, had Reese not spoken up.

"I've got type O," he said. "That makes me a universal donor, doesn't it?"

"That depends. O negative or O positive?" the vet asked.

"...I'm not sure."

"Then it's too risky," Violet spoke up. "I'm _not _in shock, Pieces. Shaken, but not in shock. If we don't know his type then plasma is the best bet."

"And any refrigerator keeping that plasma frozen would have gone out by now," Reese pointed out.

"If you've got A antibodies and he's got B, it could be just as bad as giving him type A blood if he's actually an O," Violet countered.

"It's lose-lose either way, Vivi. At least this way there's less of a chance that something will go wrong."

"But if—"

"He's _got _to have blood. You said so yourself. If we don't do it, he might not make it."

"And if we do it but something goes wrong, we're just speeding things along," the woman insisted.

"Why are you so against this? You're the one who said he needed it!" Daryl said. All of the back and forth was grating on his nerves.

"Because Shane was right. I cracked back there when I should have been calm. If we do this, and he dies because of it, that'll be on my hands!"

"No, it won't," Reese again took hold of her hands. "It's my blood, so it'll be on me. It's not your fault this happened."

The woman stared into her friend's eyes, trying to pick out any kind of deception. She wouldn't be surprised if he was full of accusations too. Lord knew Shane just kept firing them off one by one. But this was Reese, she reminded herself. He would not lie to her. She felt herself growing calmer.

"We need to make a decision soon," Hershel reminded them. "Are we going to do it or not?"

Violet closed her eyes and heaved a sigh, knowing she'd been defeated. Reese knew her silent approval when he saw it and nodded.

"Do it."

"Alright. I'm going to need your help to finish cleaning and closing the wound. Can you handle that?"

Violet nodded. Yes, she could handle it. Now that the pressure was off her shoulders, and she felt the comforting presence of her best friend, she was much calmer. She turned to Reese, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm sure. It's the only chance we have."

Hershel led the pair to his tent, where he had his younger daughter prepare to the live transfusion. Reese was given water and made to sit until they were ready. Before that, they needed to close the wound all the way. As soon as Violet and the old vet finished, the large gauge needle was stuck into Reese's arm by the young blond girl who had prepared the kit. He watched as his own blood slid down the tube to where T-Dog would receive it. Only time would tell if it would work.

Now that everyone was relatively calm and out of danger, Violet moved to leave the tent. She was going to Rick to explain what happened more thoroughly. However, once outside she spotted Daryl. He was standing speaking with someone, and she could see a deep gouge on the side of his neck.

Had he been shot too? She hadn't noticed his wound before, or the stain on his shirt. From the looks of it, the scrape extended from from the bottom of his neck to down over his collarbone. It was quite a long graze. How had she _not_ noticed?

She cautiously approached him. He was facing the other direction, speaking to a worried-looking Carol. He was cupping one hand to the side of his neck, as if it wasn't really that big of a deal. He whirled around instantly when she got close, like a cornered animal.

"Whatcha want?" he asked curtly.

"You're hurt."

"No shit? Here I was thinkin' it was just a lil bug bite," the man patronized her.

"Let me see it."

He backed off a few steps.

"No way in hell. I saw how you acted back there. 'm better off jus' lettin' it heal by itself."

"That was different. I can do it just fine. I acted like that because gunshots are...well, they're a weakness, okay?" Violet wasn't ready to explain why just yet. Daryl didn't buy a word of it though.

"Oh, really? And jus' how many 'weaknesses' do ya happen to have?"

"Daryl," Carol cut in. "She's just trying to help."

"An' I'll say it again. You wanna help, you stay away from me."

"You'll get an infection!" the younger woman snapped.

"So what? I let _you_ near me an' I'll end up with a gushin' jugular."

Violet didn't consider herself to be a very patient person. She had to force herself to wear a sort of falsely placid persona when dealing with some particularly finicky patients. But there were certain people, at certain times, who made the facade drop faster than a duck shot out of the sky.

This was one of those times, and Violet was dangerously close to letting her facade fall. Her worried expression was suddenly replaced by one of irritation, and she grabbed Daryl's arm so quickly that he actually blinked in surprise. She'd had more than enough. Enough of the stressful day, of running for her life and almost being eaten by walkers, and she'd _especially_ had enough of all the backhanded comments directed at her just because she was still a stranger within the group. She was finished being scared and surprised. Now, she was simply angry.

"You can insult me all you like. Jab at my bedside manner if you want. Hell, you can even call me bad names or spit on me for all I care. But don't go being an idiot when someone's already been hurt, and _don't_ make light of my abilities because I just happen to be human and made a mistake. Now you're gonna come with me, take off your shirt, and get some stitches. And if you don't, you'd better believe I"m gonna rip it off of you."

Daryl scowled. He tried to pull away, but Violet was quick and her grip was surprisingly strong. Wherever the panic and weakness from earlier had come from, it was definitely no longer present. She was glaring at him now, a challenge in her eyes.

But Daryl Dixon was not one to follow commands at all, much less from some high-and-mighty explorer who crumbled to bits at the sight of a bullet wound. He turned in her grasp, eye to eye with the woman and met her glare. Each was trying to see who would give in first. His face said it all as the corners of his lips curled up into a sight smirk.

Challenge accepted.

******-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

******-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

Endnotes:

Phew! Three days of editing and rehashing parts of the chapter, and here you finally are. I'm still not satisfied with how some of it turned out, but I wanted to move things along. The banter about blood types is something I wanted to throw in, because I'm unnecessarily picky about that kind of thing and it bothered me a little bit when Carl needed blood on the show and Rick just happened to be the only one with a matching type.

Granted, if no one else knew their type it would have been risky to take theirs, but I find it hard to believe that no one else was type A when it's the second most common blood type out there.

Funfact: O negative is the universal donor for red blood cells. That's why Hershel asked Reese if he was positive or negative. The universal donor for plasma is something completely different, though. O Positive is (I believe) the most commonly occurring type for Caucasoids, but O negative is only found in about eight percent of the population. Now that you have that useless bit of information, I'm going to stop blabbering.

Thanks for reading!


	12. Getting Blood Out of a Stone

Author's Note: Hey, hey! How've you all been? Meant to have this done sooner but things have been pretty hectic lately. A bit more "downtime" this chapter and some more character interaction, but we'll get back into the action soon enough. Just have patience, dear readers!

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**Chapter Twelve: Getting Blood Out of a Stone**

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Her grip on his arm was disconcerting.

His gaze had fallen to her hands as she tightened her fingers just slightly. He almost would have missed it if it wasn't for another disconcerting fact. She'd been shaking a while ago, all pale and pathetic and probably chilled from the autumn air. But the pulse in her fingers was strong and steady, and warm. Her touch was heated, probably from all the blood pumping frantically through her veins the last hour or so. Her grip on his arm felt like a branding iron, but he could have easily torn away from her.

"Look, if you're worried I'll do something bad to you, you can rest easy. If there's one thing in this world I'm good at, it's doing stitches."

He was still scowling at her, still apprehensive and irritated and wanting to get away from her.

"I won't do anything to purposely hurt you," she had meant it to be comforting, but some irritation seeped into her voice.

He looked to her eyes again, the deep brown color giving away nothing. He wondered if she'd actually try what she had threatened, ripping his shirt off to get at the wound. He doubted it, though. He definitely didn't want her 'help', even if she was able to stitch as well as she claimed. He'd had worse wounds, like the time he'd fallen down the cliff looking for Sophia. He hadn't needed help then, and he didn't need help now.

_'Ya did have help though, ya pussy. Yer nothin' but a baby who goes cryin' for help at the littlest scratch. Thought I taught you better'n that, little brother.' _He imagined Merle saying.

In fact he could practically hear the thick drawl of his brother's voice in his ear. He wanted to tell the voice to shut up, but Violet was already staring at him so intensely that he could swear she'd heard his inner musings.

"Best let go o' me," he warned her.

"Or what?"

"You don't wanna know, girl."

But Violet did not let go. Instead, she began to pull him towards her tent and her supplies. Daryl was not one to hit a woman (female walkers were another matter altogether), but he felt at a loss. He didn't want her touching him, but he couldn't think of a way to get her away.

"Just humor me, " Violet pleaded. "I promise I'll let you be after that. I won't bother you ever again unless you need me."

"Daryl," Carol added. "Just let her. If not her, then Hershel. You've got to get that closed up."

"Look, it's either deal with me now, or get a bad infection and have to do it then. And trust me, that'll be far from just a little tickle."

It would probably take longer, too. It was like she was telling him to choose which was the lesser of two evils.

"...fine. Have it your way."

He tried to convince himself that it had nothing to do with that stupid nagging voice in his head as he reluctantly gave in and followed her. Violet's grip let up, though, and she cast Carol an apologetic look as she led the man away.

She waited for him to make the first move. She really did want him to trust her, if only to get rid of the nasty looks she kept getting. He seemed almost jumpy, but with the way the day had turned out, she didn't really blame him.

He reluctantly peeled off the angel-wing vest and the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing and turned his head slightly away from her. The last person to see him shirtless had been Carol, and that also been when he was injured. He remembered how disgustingly helpless he'd felt, how he'd flinched away from her like some injured animal. He wouldn't do that this time, and if the woman had anything to say about what she saw, he'd leave instantly, infection be damned.

He didn't sit, instead remaining defiantly vertical as she dug through the supplies for disinfectant. She was suddenly feeling pretty nervous as she approached him. Daryl was much taller than she was, wide at the shoulders and built with the kind of muscle one got from hard work outdoors.

Somehow, him being shirtless didn't make him seem vulnerable at all. Quite the opposite, as the cold stare he'd fixed her with was intimidating. He could crush her like an ant if he wanted to. Violet took a steadying breath and opened a bag of cottonballs. She could do this. She would just have to avoid sudden movements and try not to breathe so loud...

"Let's get this over with. Sooner I can get away from ya, the better."

Violet approached slowly, soaking the cotton with isoprophyl as she went. Carefully, she lifted the cottonball and examined the graze. It extended for about three and a half inches, part of it deeper than the rest. She decided to do the worst part first, patting the deepest part with the cotton ball, the white coming away tainted with red.

Daryl made no movements, watching her from the corner of his eye. She froze for a moment, thinking he'd pull away at the sting of the alcohol or swat her away and decide that Hershel was a better choice after all.

"You gonna do this or not?" he snapped at her.

'_I guess he's not going anywhere,'_ she thought.

She continued dabbing at the wound, carefully and slowly. It really wasn't a life-threatening injury, but it was deep enough that if he had decided to fight her more, he'd have a nasty scar and a nastier infection to match in no time. Once the ball was completely soiled, she picked up another one and repeated the process, then cleaned the skin around the wound before leaning close and blowing a soft puff of air across his skin. Daryl started.

"What the hell do you think yer doin'?"

"Sorry. It'll dry faster this way and I can get to the actual stitching," Violet explained. She didn't want to push her luck. His scrutiny made her uneasy, so she continued with; "Or we can wait. Your choice."

"Whatever. Just get on with it," Daryl answered.

Violet gave a nod before returning to her task, and once she was sure the wound was dry, she picked up a packaged suture dispenser. The crinkling plastic seemed especially loud in the silence between them. Finally, when she had the thread unwound and was ready to put the needle through his skin, she spoke again. She felt like he should have some kind of warning, at least.

"Okay, here we go."

Daryl winced just slightly as Violet threaded the needle through his skin and pulled the edges of the torn flesh together. He could only remember two other occasions in his life when he'd needed stitches. The most recent time had been at Hershel's farm after getting impaled on his own arrow and getting shot by Andrea. He was so out of it then that he hardly remembered the event. Before that, it had been when he was a child.

On a hunting expedition with his brother, he'd come upon a bear trap. It was only his second or third time out, so he wasn't yet attuned to everything that could indicate danger in the woods. He had avoided getting the brunt of the force, but the teeth had still cut him when the trap snapped closed, deep enough that he wouldn't stop screaming and Merle had to piggyback him home, where he experienced the unpleasant ordeal of getting stitched with a straight needle and fishing line "disinfected" with whiskey. And Merle had been anything but gentle, letting him know how much of a wimp he was for needing his big brother to carry him home like some little girl.

Comparing those times to Violet's admittedly skillful touch, he hardly felt a thing. There was a slight tug every time she pulled the suture material tight, but no additional pain. She was taking her time, he noted, stitching the skin as tightly together as she could. Since his life wasn't in danger like T-Dog's had been, she could afford to be detailed. By the look on her face, he would almost say she looked relaxed doing it.

"I never did thank you properly for saving me back there," the woman spoke up, breaking the silence.

"I told you already," Daryl began.

"Yeah, yeah. 'Stay the hell away from you.' I get it, I really do. But I still feel like I need to say it. I know you don't like me or trust me. But if you hadn't been there, I would never have been able to see my best friend again. So thank you."

Her fingers carefully traced over the line of stitches she'd made, inspecting her work. Daryl shuddered involuntarily, remembering times others had been less careful. But Violet had been true to her word. It hadn't hurt at all, except when she'd been cleaning it, and that was to be expected. He noticed her gaze trailing down his torso, probably to check for other injuries.

She saw the scars, he knew, puckered lines of white here and there on his skin. Though they had faded with time, she was sure to notice them since she had medical training. As well, they weren't all small subtle things. There was one just a couple of inches from the wound she'd just stitched that was impossible to not notice.

But she didn't say a word about them or try to touch any of them. He was honestly surprised. He thought she would have been the nosy type.

"I don't know about you, and you don't know about me," the woman said, as if reading his thoughts. "I'm not going to try to pry because, frankly, I don't give a damn. Everyone's got their secrets. We don't have to be friends."

"Wouldn't wanna anyway," Daryl retorted.

"Yeah, well neither do I. But life would be a whole lot easier if we at least got along, don't you think?"

She cut the suture material down and he wasted no time in pulling his shirt and vest back on, casting her a scathing look as he walked stiffly away from her.

"World don't work that way no more. Ain't all sunshine and rainbows. If ya spent less time worryin' about niceties an' crap, you'd be better off."

What was that? 'Friendly' advice? Violet snorted and stuffed the supplies back where she got them. She still had blood on her hands, and she was tired. So very tired.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Beth Greene had seen a lot of different kinds of people in her life. Before the world had gone to hell, she'd been quite good at figuring out what kind of person someone was based solely on their appearance. At least, she liked to think so. When she'd been a bit younger, in middle school maybe, Hershel had told her that you can learn all you need to learn about a person from their body language. If they were mad, if they were happy, if they were so depressed they were only barely holding themselves back from tears...you could tell all of those things simply from how they carried themselves.

But this Reese person in the tent with her now was different. Even after giving blood and being ordered to stay and rest by her father, the young man gave away almost nothing with his body language. He was relaxed, leaned back onto his elbows with his eyes closed and a bandage around his arm. He almost seemed to be asleep.

Hershel didn't notice his youngest child watching the young man, being busy himself. He was continuously monitoring T-Dog for any signs that the blood would be rejected by his body.

So Beth found herself leaning closer to examine Reese for any other clues about himself. He was young, that much was obvious. He spent a lot of time outside, it seemed, though his complexion meant he'd never tan darkly even if his life depended on it. That was not to say that he was sickly pale. On the contrary, he had a healthy tone to his skin, even with all the freckles. It was strange to see him like this though. From what she'd seen of him, he generally appeared to be frail, kind of delicate for a boy. But there was something else too, a confidence that made him stronger than he looked.

He and his friend both confused Beth to no end. She hadn't spent a lot of time near them, so she didn't really know anything about them other than what Rick had told the group. Everyone else knew more, even her own sister. Beth was feeling just a bit behind the times, and that fact annoyed her to no end.

She didn't realize she'd been staring at Reese until he opened his eyes and spoke to her.

"Was there something wrong?"

She jumped just slightly before collecting herself. She'd been caught.

"Just...checking on you," she lied smoothly. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm just fine. A little lightheaded but good otherwise," Reese answered. "Are _you_ okay? You look a little pale."

Beth's hands flew to her face and she felt her cheeks heat in embarrassment. So she'd not been the only one staring...

"It's just been a rough day, with everything that's happened," she explained.

Reese nodded in understanding.

"Maybe you should take a rest too. Here, I'll leave you alone so you can lay down—"

"No!" Beth's protest made the young man raise an eyebrow. "I mean, what if we need more blood?"

"She's right," Hershel spoke up, his daughter's outburst having drawn his attention. "We may need you again if there's a reaction. It's best if you stay close just in case."

"...okay? I won't go then." Reese turned his attention back to Beth. "But why don't you sit anyway?"

The girl looked to her father for approval. Hershel raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, nodding his head as the girl took a seat a couple of feet from Reese. The young man didn't seem to notice her discomfort, leaning back peacefully once more. It was awkward sitting there next to him, because he just kept staring around the room. Staring at T-Dog's sleeping form, at the back of her father's head, at the bag of equipment, and at her. She tried to think of something to say, feeling a bit stuck. Thankfully, Reese broke the silence for her.

"Is he going to be alright?"

"We'll just have to see. If he makes it through the night, he should be fine. But there's no telling if there's going to be nerve damage, and the risk of infection is high with how your friend treated the wound," Hershel answered him.

"She cauterized it, right? With the car lighter? Never figured Vivi to resort to desperate measure like that."

"He was bleeding quite a lot, son," Hershel reasoned.

"I know. I'm just glad they made it back. She brought antibiotics, didn't she?"

"Indeed she did. They'll help, but we still need to keep a close eye on him. Will you stay here tonight in case we need you?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Reese answered. "As long as you don't feel like kicking me out, I'm yours."

"Thank you," Beth said to him with a smile. "You're a lot less fussy than other donors we've had, anyway."

She was cute, this girl. Probably not a good idea to let her know that just yet though. Not with her father and a critical patient in the tent. That would just be in poor taste. So Reese just smiled back.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The first couple of nights were touch and go. T-Dog's body did have a reaction to the blood Reese had given. The reaction was minor, however, and Hershel explained that it was nothing to worry about. By sheer dumb luck, it had worked well enough. Reese did have to give more, though. Twice, in fact, and he would have given more if Violet hadn't kicked him out of Hershel's tent herself. All that was left to do was wait for T-Dog to heal.

The only problem was that would take a bit of time and attention to make sure he didn't try going anywhere or doing anything stupid. To this end, the two medically-trained members of the camp decided to switch out shifts keeping an eye on him. T-Dog was allowed to go back to his own tent for rest. He insisted that Carol not be outed, and the woman reluctantly agreed to stay. Hershel watched over T-Dog in the day, and Violet kept a vigilant watch during the night.

A whole week had passed, a week in which one member of the group recovered from his injury as one took his place. In that time, the ammunition that had cost them so dearly was given to Rick to watch over. Glenn was up and about, his leg wound no longer an issue. With his newfound freedom, he was eager to find something to do with himself. However, with the recent incident at the S-mart still fresh in their minds, none of the group was eager to go anywhere.

Instead, he found himself in the company of Reese, and the two young men spent time in the woods foraging for edibles. Maggie joined them from time to time, and Beth tentatively decided to give it a try as well. The group worked well together, the males serving as lookouts on the outings and the females keeping them in good spirits.

Violet was glad that her young companion seemed to be finding his place among the survivors. She wasn't too surprised, though. Reese was much more personable than he gave himself credit for. Her own progress was slower, fueled more by the group's general mood. She was trying to find her place too, but Shane still looked at her as though he expected her to pull a knife on them at any moment. He had some kind of serious beef with her, though she had no idea what that could be.

She kept to her word and didn't try to socialize anymore with Daryl either, so her own time was spent rather separate from the others. In fact, the only one she found herself growing closer to was T-Dog. Because she had devoted herself to watching over him, she began to learn a bit more about the man while trying to find ways to keep him from going stir-crazy.

"So, T, you ready to start throwing tantrums yet?" the woman joked, mindful of the sleeping Carol.

"Nah, not yet. A man could get used to this whole 'invalid laid up wit' a pretty nurse' setup."

Violet merely rolled her eyes with a grin. It was a slow process, but T-Dog was recovering. He was propped up on a few blankets and sleeping bags, eating normally, and there were no signs of infection yet. Things were looking up for the man.

"Yeah, well just don't expect any sponge baths any time soon. If you even think about it, this whole thing's off. I'm sure you'd have fun playing 'invalid laid up with an elderly veterinarian' just as much though."

"Not even a little one? Damn woman, that's harsh."

Violet swatted him playfully and stood up to stretch. The nights were so long now, autumn fully under way as the chilly darkness shrouded the camp. It wasn't as though she didn't enjoy T-Dog's company. On the contrary, she was quickly growing to consider him a friend, and he was easy to talk to. He didn't fuss much and he was full of things to say, so he was an easy patient.

No, it was just that she herself was unsure of how things would turn out. He was healing, that was true, but she'd noticed a lack of full mobility in his left arm. She would have to ask Hershel his opinion, but from all appearances, T-Dog had suffered some nerve damage. There was no way to be sure without extensive examination using equipment they didn't have access to, but the signs were obvious enough in their own right. He was alive, and that was good, but she found herself wishing things had turned out better. She wondered if he knew that his arm would probably never be the same again.

"Whatcha thinkin' about so hard there, lady?"

She turned her attention back to the man, his expression concerned.

"Oh, nothing really. I guess I'm just tired," she lied.

"Don't gimme that. You were a million miles away just now. What's up?"

"It's nothing to worry about. Just taking it all in, you know? And being glad that there's at least one person here who talks to me without acting like I'm going to strangle them to death," she tried to shake off his question casually. Thankfully it seemed to work.  
"Ha, well if you caught me doing that you'd prolly make me eat some nasty hospital food, wouldn't you?"

Violet snorted with laughter. If there were two things in the world she was glad the whole apocalyptic situation had done away with, they were loan payments and cafeteria food. She did dearly miss hot water, though.

"Not you. At most I'd torture you until you tell me what 'T-Dog' stands for. You've secured a solid place in my good graces," she told him. "But everyone else is just...it's frustrating. I keep making an effort and they spit in my face for it."

"'They' being Shane?" Dang. He was more perceptive than she thought.

"And don't forget Daryl," she reminded him. "He's almost as bad as Shane. At least Shane makes it clear why he thinks you're human scum. But Daryl? I don't have a clue what he's all about."

"Don't take it too personal. That's just how he is. Well, maybe not in this case."

"Meaning what exactly?" She took a seat again.

"I dunno it's like, seeing you reminds him of the fact that his brother was left behind in Atlanta."

"He had a brother?" Violet was intrigued.

"Yeah. Guy named Merle. If you think Daryl's bad, you shoulda seen this guy. He _was_ the redneck stereotype."

"Sounds...charming."

Now it was T-Dog's turn to laugh.

"Oh yeah. You'd have fallen head over heels for him. Anyway, we were on a run in the city and he started doin' stupid shit. Kept firing off his gun and bringing in the dead. I told him to knock that shit off but he came at me. So we cuffed him to a pipe on a rooftop."

"Damn," Violet muttered. "That bad?"

"That bad. We were just gonna let him stay there to cool off a while 'fore going back for him."

"I'm sensing a _but_ in there somewhere."

"Someone dropped the key to the cuffs before we could let him loose. That someone was me. Was an accident, but we couldn't stick around. You can guess what happened next."

"So he got left behind," Violet finished for him. "I think I get it now. Because we left Victor, Daryl sees the same thing. To him, I'm the kind of person who leaves a man to die in order to save my own ass."

"Maybe not. But it does remind him."

"I gotcha. But you know that in my case it was because I had no choice," Violet reasoned.

"We told him the same story. That's why he didn't believe you." T-Dog settled down more in the nest of bedding. "I think he'll come around though."

"Pft. Yeah, sure. And maybe I'll sprout wings and become a swan."

"I'm serious. The guy was _pissed_, but then he turned right around and saved my ass when I got circled by walkers."

"Oh?" the woman was still skeptical.

"Cut my arm up pretty damn bad, and was about to pass out. Daryl came outta nowhere. Shanked the son of a bitch coming up on me, then threw it over me so the others wouldn't notice me there."

"Oh, that's right. They hunt mostly by smell," the woman recalled.

"Yeah. Guy confuses the hell out of me sometimes. He'll save you then shove you out his face and call you something nasty. No one else here like him, that's for sure."

Violet grinned, agreeing wholly with that statement before something occurred to her and she laughed.

"What?" T-Dog asked.

"You just said 'shanked.' All serious-like and everything."

"Girl, get outta here!" T-Dog made to throw an empty food wrapper at her.

She dodged easily and ducked outside. She had no intention of going anywhere. She had only stepped outside for a bit of fresh air. The night was cold, even for a Seattle girl, so she was grateful for the long brown coat she had. At the end of the world, simple pleasures like that were the ones that mattered. It amazed her to know that, at one point in her life, her greatest pleasure had been in the nightlife.

Now, her greatest pleasure was that she was still alive.

Violet was brought away from her musing by voices, one male and one female. They were close, just on the other other side of the tent. Apart from herself, no one but he watchman should have been awake. Cautiously, she crept to the corner of the tent to hear a little better. It had nothing to do with being nosy. Rather, she was concerned that here might be an intruder in camp. As she drew closer though, the voices were easy to identify. She relaxed a bit.

"Shouldn't you tell Rick?" Lori's voice.

"I don't know. He trusts them, but you and I both know there's got to be more to them. If I'm right about this—" Shane, too. What were they doing out together? Lori cut him off though.

"They kept my son out of trouble, Shane. They kept _me_ out of trouble. You can't overlook that."

"And all that'll mean nothing if I'm right about this. Just think about it! She said there was something weird goin on when we were in there. Why was she so eager to go with us?"

Violet wrinkled her nose. Were they talking about her and Reese? She stopped listening after that. Was Shane really that suspicious about her? She shook her head in disgust and retreated into the tent, only to find T-Dog had closed his eyes, most likely asleep.

She, however, would not sleep that night, haunted by thoughts of what Shane could possibly be accusing her of.

******-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

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**Endnotes: **

I think T-Dog said more here in this one chapter than in both seasons of the show put together. It's a shame, because they could do so much more with his character than just being the "token black guy" so I'm admittedly taking a lot of creative liberties with his character here. I'm betting Season 3 will come along and just completely contradict everything I'm laying out here, but that's alright. You'll see more of Reese's interactions with the Greene group and Glenn next chapter, as well as more Daryl and Violet. Until then, dear reader!


	13. Rise and Fall

Author's Note: Hey hey again everyone! I hope you're enjoying the story so far and have been looking forward to another chapter. Like with the previous few chapters, everything in this next story arc will probably come in quick succession. I think you're all in for a treat with the next few chapters.

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**Chapter Thirteen: Rise and Fall**

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At the breaking of dawn, Violet finally returned to her tent, passing by a sleeping Reese. She settled down, but lay awake a while before succumbing to slumber. Her rest would be short-lived, as she awoke a mere four hours later to the sounds of Reese greeting Glenn outside. As she stumbled around pulling on rumpled pieces of clothing and her long coat, she realized there was another commodity she dearly missed; caffeine. Long nights of study and sleeplessness to go with them made her well-acquainted with exhaustion, but it had been much easier to deal with when coffee was available. As it was, she had to settle for cold water. Hershel would be taking over the watch over T-Dog, so she was left without any duties to take care of. She frowned, feeling pretty useless, actually. Besides her watch of the injured, she had no other tasks in the camp. She didn't hunt, she wasn't the cook, and Reese had lost the bet to take care of the laundry for the duo. Violet was starting to think of herself as dead weight.

Yes, she definitely needed to find something to do.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Daryl stared at his reflection in the lake as if it had bitten him. Roughly rubbing at the puckered line on his collarbone, he scowled. The woman had stitched it up well, that much was true, but the healing line was unusually tender and itched like crazy. He could make out a bit of lingering redness on the edges and around the wound. It should have healed most of the way already, but it hadn't. He hated that fact more than anything, because it meant he had to make a decision. He could suck it up and ask for help, or he could suffer though it. Pride was one thing, but even he realized how dangerous an infection could become. Even something minor like this could erupt into a life-threatening, fever-inducing festering gash if left alone.

It was no matter. He'd go to Hershel, not that woman. He'd taken care of him before so it shouldn't be a problem. At least then he'd not have to contend with the woman's damned gaze.

He found him exactly where he expected to, seated outside of Carol and T-Dog's shared tent. The flap was open to let in the sunlight, and T-Dog lounged inside.

He nodded in greeting to the woman, but neither of the other two had noticed his stealthy approach. Hershel seemed deeply engrossed in a book of some sort, while T-Dog was trying (and failing) to engage him in conversation.

"How long am I gonna be laid up like this anyway, Doc?"

"Once you're healed and I'm sure your stitches won't rip out, you can go back to your normal routine," the veterinarian didn't even look up from his reading. "How can I help you, Daryl?"

Daryl was a bit surprised that the doctor had noticed his presence. He cleared his throat, stepping away from the tent's entrance.

"I was wonderin' if ya could take a look at somethin' for me, if ya got the time."

"I'd be happy to help, son, but if it's about your wound I think miss Violet may have a bit more expertise than—"

"Rather it be you," Daryl interrupted.

"If you insist. What seems to be the problem?"

Daryl stepped forward and pulled on the collar of his shirt until the stitched line was visible. Hershel stood and squinted at the line and the neat row of stitches there.

"Well, it looks to me like you have a minor infection and some inflammation. I advise getting the stitches removed and cleaning it thoroughly."

"Do ya got time for it?"

"I do, but honestly speaking, son, these are a bit close together for my old eyes to see properly. You'd have much better luck having her remove them. "

Daryl, of course, knew immediately who "her" referred to.

"Tha's just great," he grumbled, letting go of his collar and stepping away from the tent. Hershel shook his head as he watched the hunter go.

"You did that on purpose," T-Dog accused.

Hershel turned back to the resting man and picked up his book.

"I have a feeling our two new companions will be with us for the long haul. God willing, he's going to have to make peace with them."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

He wasn't sure where to look for her after he found that the tent was empty. She hadn't been with Hershel, and she definitely wouldn't be caught anywhere near Shane. That didn't leave many other options, unless she'd gone off with her friend into the woods. His search ended when he spotted a flash of movement, the tail of a long brown coat flapping in the breeze. It hung from a mid-level tree branch, on top of which Violet sat and surveyed the area.

She had convinced Rick to let her play lookout, both to get herself away from camp and to make herself useful. She didn't really have much else to keep her busy since Hershel was taking care of the injured member of the group. The branches were thick, more than strong enough to hold her weight as she sat there, but they were extremely uncomfortable. She was almost positive that Shane must have a horrendously bruised behind from doing night watches all the time, she thought to herself in amusement.

Someone below her perch cleared their throat, drawing her attention downward. There stood Daryl. She tensed.

"I'm trying to see if I'll become a bird if I sit here long enough," she quipped.

"Don't look like it's workin' to me," the man called back.

"Yeah, I'm more likely to become part of the tree before then. So what brings you out here?"

"...Lookin' for you, actually."

"Really?" Violet carefully swung down from her perch and brushed her palms off on the back of her coat before standing level with him. "So what did I do this time?"

"Damn, woman. Chill out. Not like I'm gonna throw ya down the ravine just for talkin'."

"Sorry." He had a point. Maybe she wasn't being exactly fair to him, especially after learning why he was always so short with her from T-Dog. She relaxed her guard just a little. "So what can I do for you?"

Daryl shifted his weight awkwardly, fingers pressing against the scar through his shirt. Asking her for help outright was something he refused to so. So he settled for being accusatory.

"Ya did a half-ass job on me the other day," he lied. "Ain't healing right."

Violet looked surprised by that. She stepped a little bit closer.

"Let me see?"

He did just as he had with Hershel, puling down on his collar until she got a clear view.

"Itches somethin' awful and still stings like a bitch," he explained as the woman looked over her handiwork.

"Mmhmm. Well, I _didn't_ do a half-assed job. You must not have been cleaning it enough," she countered. "It's definitely got a slight infection."

"Well ain't that just a peach."

"It'll heal better if I take the stitches out and give it a good cleaning. Looks like it's only a surface infection. Probably something got stuck under the thread and caused it."

"So whadya want from me?"

"You can stay here if you want, or come with me back to the camp," Violet said.

"Why?" Couldn't she just get it over with?

"I'm on watch. Or at least I'm pretending to be. I don't have anything with me," the woman answered. "I can leave and come back with some stuff if you don't feel like going anywhere."

"Whatever ya want then," Daryl dismissed.

She left him standing beneath her lookout post. Daryl took the opportunity to allow himself to think. She had seemed pretty surprised to see him. Startled, even, almost like she was on guard in case someone else had shown up. He hadn't seen much of her around camp in the last few days. It was pretty obvious that someone was scaring her off.

It mattered little. So long as she kept out of his business, he didn't really care.

Violet returned a few minutes later with a few things in her hands, some other supplies visible sticking out of her coat pockets. She glanced about as she approached, as if she had expected him to leave.

"Got them," she said as she neared. "Ready whenever you are."

He stepped forward stiffly and pulled o his collar again, and Violet withdrew a tiny pair of cutters from her coat pocket. She started at the bottom of the line and worked her way up, cutting every loop carefully. Daryl didn't move, again looking at her from the corners of his eyes. She didn't really try to converse this time. In fact, she didn't even speak while she pulled the line from his skin. As much as he appreciated the silence, it was kind of bizarre since she'd tried to chat every other time. And so it was Daryl who broke it.

"The hell 'dya wanna play around in a tree for, anyway, Wilkens?"

Violet paused and looked up at him briefly.

"I was trying to make myself useful by taking a watch shift. Heh, feels like all I'm doing lately. Watching T-Dog, watching the trees. I tell you what, there's not that much to look at," she answered.

"Better than havin' Walkers to look at."

"I guess you have a point," Violet said.

Things became awkward once more and Violet removed the last of the thread before starting to clean the remnants of the wound. She felt like she had to say something, anything in regards to the new information she had about him. He probably wouldn't appreciate the invasion of his privacy, but she hadn't asked for the facts. They'd simply been offered to her by somebody else.

"...I heard about what happened to your brother...to Merle," the woman spoke slowly. "I...think I get it now."

So much for her staying out of things.

"Ain't nothing to get. It wasn't any of yer business," Daryl answered with a scowl. "An' who told ya that anyhow?"

"T-Dog told me, naturally," she offered as explanation. "We were just talking and I guess it just slipped out. If you don't want to talk about it, whatever. I'm just letting you know that I get it now."

No wonder she had been so quiet. Damn that loud-mouthed asshole. He almost would have preferred if she still thought he hated her just because. He didn't want her sympathy. He wasn't crying about it and he didn't need to talk about his feelings on the matter.

On the other hand, she wasn't _asking_ for an apology or any sort of acknowledgment. She truly was staying out of his business as much as possible. She hadn't left T-Dog behind at the store, and in fact had violently protested when they'd thought Shane was suggesting they do so. Guilt was something she wore like a pin on her shirt. She thought about what she did every day, and was feeling useless to the others more and more. Regret was another feeling that Violet could easily identify. Maybe they shouldn't have joined the survivors' group after all. Daryl let loose a deep sigh.

"Ya aren't like that," he said at last.

"Hm?" Violet looked up at him again.

"Ye would've saved 'im if ya could. I saw the damn recording, remember?"

The woman blinked. If she wasn't mistaken, this was some sort of roundabout apology. Well, she'd take what she could get.

"You gotta toughen up if ya wanna live out here, though. Can't be watchin' after ya like some little kid. I ain't got time for that shit," Daryl added. "And ya should keep your nose outta everyone's personal business. But ya don't haveta act like the rest of us are gonna light you on fire."

He could swear he saw her lips curve upward into a slight smile at that. It was acceptance he was offering to her. He knew the feeling of isolation all too well. Until the incident at the creek, none of the group had treated him like one of them either. Bitterly, he thought that _he_ still didn't fully fit in anywhere in particular, and he'd been with them for months.

"Is this some kinda truce then?" Violet spoke again. "We both...'get it.'"

"Yeah. I guess ya could say that."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"So what are we looking for out here, anyway?"

Following behind Reese with dead leaves crunching underfoot, Glenn was feeling a little bit out of his element. His turf were the streets and alleyways of Atlanta, not the woods of Senoia. But really, it wasn't Reese's either, the other young man coming from a world of cityscapes and roadways. Honestly, probably the only ones presently in the woods who actually knew a thing about them were the Greene sisters. Even then, they weren't really 'camp and hunt' types before all of this.

They were up front with the urban explorer, examining the bark of some tree which seemed to be flaking off. In the past few days, they'd spent a lot of time in the bushes and among the trees, just passing time listening to the former history student rattling off information he'd read. Reese certainly got going when he found something he liked to talk about.

He was clearly what one might call a nerd, something Glenn could related to. But where Glenn enjoyed video games, Reese preferred movies, especially campy 80's horror films. Where Glenn would be spending time listening to music turned up full-blast in headphones, Reese would be spending time with his face glued to a textbook.

The young man had spent an unhealthy amount of time being bookish and somewhat withdrawn. When pressed, he admitted that Violet and Victor had really been the only friends he'd had. That was a trait all three of them had shared, something that put them in that first therapy session where they'd met. He remembered how the other two had looked then, fragile almost, and very angry. Those two things were what had landed them in the place to begin with. Within the two he had seen a mirror image of himself, all of them cracked in their own ways, and they had bonded over it.

And now there was only Violet. But that was enough for him to strive for survival, enough for him to push his limits. Sometimes their friendship was all that kept him going. Other than that, he had no idea what had kept them alive for so long this far from home.

Glenn envied that about them. The world had gone up in flames but their friendship was still intact and strong. He himself had no clue what had happened to his friends. The friendships within the group had been tried and strained to the breaking point, as with Rick and Shane. Nothing was the same as before, and so no one was the same as before. But wandering around in the woods like this was relaxing in a way. He could easily see why one could get hooked on urban exploration, though he wouldn't really consider this "urban..."

"Glenn! Are you coming or not?"

The young man pulled himself from his thoughts to answer Maggie's call.

"Sorry. Spaced out there for a minute," he chuckled.

"Obviously," Maggie smiled. "Come on, we're going fishing."

she grabbed his hand and began to pull him to where Reese was waiting with Beth.

"Wait, would there even _be_ any fish this time of year?" he pointed out.

"Spawning season," Beth said. "At least, that's what he says."

"That true?" Glenn asked.

"Maybe," the other male answered. "Finding out is a lot better than sitting at camp doing nothing.:

Ah, so that was why there were in the woods this time.

"Hah, I know what you mean. I know I should be happy that nothing's going on right now, but things can get pretty..."

"Boring?" Beth finished for him.

"Yeah, not much to do when the dead aren't trying to eat you"

"We're here," Reese announced, ending any further lines of conversation.

The cold edge of the late stretched before them, the dark reflections clear on the surface and a few stray leaves floating about. Beth bent down to see if she could make out any movement under the water, perhaps a fin or a gleaming scaly body, but the still surface was just like a two-way mirror. All she could see was her own reflected face and Reese standing behind her.

"Careful not to fall," he cautioned.

"I won't."

"Hm," Reese scanned the ground nearby for a place to sit and spotted a large hold among the fallen leaves. "That too. Watch out for the hole."

Beth looked to the danger zone and gave him a smile in thanks. She bent over the water again, cupping some into her hands to splash onto her face. She gasped as the icy cool drops ran down her skin.

"Whew!" she exclaimed. The other three laughed.

"Wake you up?" her sister teased.

Beth rolled her eyes and sat down to watch as the others set up the tackle they'd be using. There wasn't much available in the way of bait, so they would be using some of the peanut butter. There was but one pole, and it was in crappy condition, too, just some cheap thing they'd picked up after fleeing the farm. Who knew if it would work though? The lake could be empty, for all they knew. She sat back and watched her sister cast out into the water. The quiet serenity and the absence of walkers almost felt like the days before. The threat of danger was there underneath, though, lurking like a snake underfoot. And that fact was what kept it from feeling completely normal.

Beth sighed, trying to push her thoughts to something else. The truth was, out here there wasn't a whole lot more to do than in camp. They were really just _pretending_ to make themselves useful. They were all getting antsy, the course of their activities directed by whether or not there was imminent danger. The thought made her sick to her stomach. The living being directed by the dead. Now wasn't _that _something a macabre poet would have had a field day with.

As the time passed with idle chatter, the rod dipped down every now and then. Maggie narrowed her eyes at the pole, watching the cheap plastic bobber dunk down under the waterline.

"You got something?" Glenn asked.

"Can't tell yet," the woman answered. "For all I know it could just be stuck on some debris."

"Or a turtle," Beth murmured. The other three turned to look at her.

"A turtle? Just how often have you reeled in one of those?" Reese asked.

"I haven't," the girl shook her head. "I don't really fish. None of us really do. But I've seen people pull 'em up. When we were little, there was this one time daddy took us to the park, and it had this big clear lake nearby where we'd feed the ducks. I saw a fisherman pull up a big snapping turtle there"

"I remember that!" Maggie laughed. "It almost took his finger off."

"Better be careful pulling the line in then," Glenn advised.

"Oh well. If it bites me I can just have Reese's friend patch me up afterwards."

"Or you can let me do it," Beth tried to persuade her. "I've been itching to practice on somebody but Daddy won't let me."

"No offense, honey, but I think we're better off leaving it to the professionals."

"Hey!" Beth sounded offended anyway.

"Maybe Vivi could teach you," Reese suggested. "She's been pretty bored lately."

"That's not a bad idea."

They watched the line for a little while longer—the catch turned out to be little more than a stick and some algae—before Beth suddenly stood up and let her back crack, sighing in contentment. She began to separate herself from the others, but she did not go unnoticed.

"What are you doing?" Reese asked her.

"I uh...I just needed to go...you know."

"Oh. Well, do you want one of us to go with you?"

"Wh-what?" her cheeks flushed red.

"You know, so nothing sneaks up on you," Reese said quickly. "Why not ask your sister?"

"Oh! No, I'll be alright! I won't go far, promise. But, thank you for worrying about me."

Reese gave her a disarmingly charming grin. "Hey, no problem. But if you need anything..."

"You guys'll know right away."

The girl stalked off after that, stopping nearby as promised. She finished up quickly, standing to rezip her jeans when she heard movement behind her and froze. She stood ramrod straight and glanced wildly about for any signs of what it had been. But there was nothing. No wind in the branches or crunching of the dry leaves. There was not a walker behind her waiting to seize her and tear her open. There was only the silent stillness of the forest. She breathed a sigh of relief and turned to rejoin the others, but something barred her path. A bristly, black feral hog scampered from the brush and ran in front of her with a loud squeal. She moved out of the way, but the hog looped around and charged at her aggressively. Beth screamed in surprise, stepping back away from the animal—and right into the hole Reese had pointed out earlier. The earth crumbled beneath her feet as she fell into the pitch blackness, the ground swallowing her screams.

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Endnotes: Short, short. This chapter felt pretty short. But there's more to come soon. Til then!


	14. Dead in the Water

Author's Note: Hello there. Another chapter for you all, one that took far too long to get out considering how short it is... Sorry about that. It's been a busy week for me. But here you go. More to come over the weekend.

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**Chapter Fourteen: Dead in the Water**

******-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

The others were running the instant they heard Beth scream. Three pairs of feet crunched through the leaves on a path to the hole.

"Beth? Beth!" Maggie shouted her sister's name.

"Down here!" The call back was slightly muffled, faint.

The three gathered around the hole she'd fallen into, trying to see her through the darkness.

"Are you hurt?" Maggie yelled down.

"I don't think so. But I don't know how far I fell. I can't see a thing! And it's wet down here!"

"Can you see us at all?"

"I see the light at the top, but I can't see you. What should we do?"

They couldn't see her, either. They had no idea how far down she was due to the darkness of the hole. Without equipment, pulling her out was impossible. There was no telling what could be down there in the dark with her. An idea occurred to Glenn.

"Hey, you guys used to go into mines and stuff, right? Do you have any of your gear back at camp?" he asked Reese.

"I'm pretty sure Vivi has it all. Glenn, you're a genius!"

Reese turned from the others, prepared to sprint.

"I'm gonna go get help. You two stay here and make sure nothing happens. Try and stay quiet, but don't do anything until I get back."

"Wait!" Maggie tried to stop him. "Shouldn't someone go with? We need to tell our dad..."

"I'll let him know. But you two need to keep an eye out for Walkers. Keep each other safe, you know?"

With that, he turned on his heel, got his bearings, and tore out of the woods in a spring. They _were_ going to help Beth. He just hoped no one would misinterpret the situation and try to pin the blame on him or something...

He hurried to find the others. The longer the girl was stuck in the hole, the greater chance there was of something bad happening. If the weather took a turn for the worse, or if night fell, the job would be much harder.

He came upon Violet and Daryl, the former just finishing cleaning the latter's wound. The pair looked at him in alarm when he clamored from the trees and skidded to a halt in front of them. He was just as surprised to see them.

"Pieces? What's wrong? What's with the running?" Violet stepped away from Daryl.

"We've got trouble," Reese panted. "Beth fell down a sinkhole. We can't get to her."

"The Greene girl?" Daryl asked. "Where?"

"A few meters from the lake shore. Maggie and Glenn are with her now."

"Why didn't ya just get her out?"

"We don't want to risk the hole caving in. That's why, Vivi...we still have the gear, right?"

"We do," she immediately caught on to what he was thinking. "You go tell the others and meet me back here, and I'll get it ready."

"Yeah..." Reese breathed, making ready for another mad dash. Then, out of nowhere, Daryl seized the back of his shirt.

"Hold up. How ya plan on helping if ya can't get near the damn hole?"

"It's not that," Reese said. "She can't climb out on her own. The walls are nothing but dirt, and she said it was wet down there. Probably full of water..."

"So what's the plan then?"

"We'll climb down with our equipment and get her out," Violet supplied. "We've done something similar before, when we wanted some shots of the drop of a mineshaft. This is probably safer than that, actually."

"That was before though. Victor was the one who hauled you back up," Reese protested.

"That's why you need to tell everyone else. We're gonna need some serious muscle to pull up a soaking wet girl. Not to mention whoever's going down there to get her."

"I'm goin then," Daryl said.

"Huh?"

"You can't exactly pick an' choose. Me, Rick, an' Shane are the only ones strong enough to pull ya up without doing damage."

"That's true. And we really shouldn't leave the camp unguarded. I'll go let everyone know what's going on. I'll bring someone back with me if I can." Reese moved to make way for the third time.

"Hang on. Can you...I know this is petty and kind of a bad time, but if you could, can you bring Rick and not Shane?" Violet asked. "I'll get everything ready while you do, then you can show us where she fell. Was Beth hurt?"

"She says no, but I'm not too sure."

"Her dad will want to be there too," Violet mused.

"Worry after we get the girl out, " Daryl said. "The sooner we get her out, the better."

"Yeah, alright. Let's get going then."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_'From med student to casual exploration...and now I'm playing search and rescue,' _Violet thought wryly as she and Daryl made their way to her tent to set up the climbing gear.

It was a pretty simple setup, really, nothing fancy or high-tech about it. The gear consisted of a pair of harnesses that ropes could clip to in order to tether them to something solid. In this case, the tether would be Daryl and Rick. One of the harnesses seemed to be broken, though.

"...we'll have to just use the one then," Violet dismissed it.

If Beth wasn't hurt, the hole probably wasn't that deep, but she was likely scared and feeling trapped. As expected, Hershel was distraught with worry when he heard the news. He insisted on going with them, joining Rick and Daryl in accompanying them back into the woods. It was not impossibly far, a ten minute walk at the most, but their stress made it feel much longer.

"Dad!" Maggie embraced her father as soon as the group drew near. "I'm so scared for her. What if something happens to her down there?"

"That's why we're here," Reese assured her.

"So what's the plan?" Glenn gestured at the climbing tools in their hands. Violet removed her coat and began strapping the harness on, tugging hard at every closure to make sure none would pop open.

"I'm going to go down there," she explained. "I'll give the harness to Beth and make sure she's strapped in. Then you guys can pull her up and let the rope back down. From there, I'll put it back on and then come up too. Should be easy enough. In theory, anyway..."

"Are you sure this is gonna work?" Rick asked.

"It should. We've used this stuff before. Not like _this_, but it's stuff climbers use. It's not going to break or anything like that," Violet answered.

"You hear that, Beth? We're gonna get you out. Just wait a little bit longer," Maggie called down.

"You're going to be just fine, sweetheart," Hershel added.

"Daddy? Is that you?" Beth sounded like she'd been crying. Her breath was hitched.

"Yes, sweetheart. I'll be right here until you get out. I"m not going anywhere."

"Are you ready?" Reese stood with Violet to check over the closures on the harness one last time. The rope was already attached to the sturdy metal hoop on the back.

"Yep, good to go."

She approached the edge of the hole slowly so the earth wouldn't crumble away. Carefully, she sat and scooted so that her legs dangled off the edge. Once Daryl and Rick had a firm hold of the rope, she jumped, finding herself hung in midair as the two men caught the rope and slowly began to lower her. It wouldn't do to cave in the sinkhole on the terrified Beth, no matter how much of a hurry they were in. With her maglite in hand, she shined the beam down to survey the damage.

It was a narrow space, extending maybe fifteen or so feet into the ground. The passage curved just slightly, but was straight up for the most part. It was lined with a few rocks. The eroded hole had probably been there for a while. She could smell damp soil and algae. A glance downward showed that the space did indeed house water, a good three feet of it.

Beth pressed herself backwards to allow Violet room for the descent. The woman touched down with a light splash, immediately soaked almost to the waist. She curled her lip in discomfort, then turned to make sure Beth was really alright. Instantly, the younger girl burst into tears of relief. Hearing her sobs, Reese called down to them.

"Hey, is she hurt down there?"

"She's fine. She's wet, cold, and scared out of her wits, but she's fine from what I can see. Right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay," Beth whimpered.

"Hah, I bet you're ready to get out of here, huh?"

Beth nodded fiercely, hugging herself in an effort to keep warm. She'd started developing a chill, her body shaking and her teeth chattering. Begin soaked to the bone and standing in a pool of cold water three feet deep wasn't helping matters. Violet quickly unclipped the closure and began to remove the harness. She made an adjustment or two, gave Beth the rundown, and began securing it on the younger woman. Once she was satisfied it was secure, she gave the ok to go. Beth looked slightly anxious, gasping as the rope began to lift her.

"Hey, it's okay. Rick and Daryl are going to pull you up in record time. The rope's stronger than it looks."

"But what about you?"

"I told you already, didn't I? Just toss everything back down when you're up there and then it'll be my turn. Come on now, you look like you're turning into a Popsicle."

Beth swallowed hard and willed herself not to look down as she was drawn further and further out of the hole. Within moments, she could see the edge just a foot or two out of reach. Rick and Daryl heaved on the rope with all their might. The water weight in Beth's clothes made things harder, but finally with one last pull, the girl gripped hold of the side. Hershel and Maggie rushed to take her hands and get her out before crowding her with an embrace. Beth was crying again, glad to be out of her ordeal.

"It's okay now. It's done. You're safe."

"God, we were so scared," Maggie was crying then, too.

"I thought I was dead when I started falling. When I landed, I thought there'd be something down there."

"That _was_ a close one," Reese sighed with relief. "I told you someone should have gone with you."

Beth gave a nervous laugh.

"Beth?" her father asked. "Just what happened?"

"I needed to pee," she confessed. "I came out here alone and a great big...hog ran out from nowhere. I tried to step away form it, but I stepped in the hole instead."

The story sounded like complete bull and utterly ridiculous to her own ears, but they all accepted it, just glad to have her back.

"You're lucky you weren't hurt. It doesn't look very deep, but it's still enough to cause damage if you landed wrong," Said Rick.

"I am a little sore. But I'll be okay once I get out of these wet clothes. Violet's still down there, though. We can't just let her stay in that hole."

It was Reese who helped her out of the harness so it could be thrown down the hole. It splashed into the water and Violet began to put the contraption on again.

"You alright down there?" her friend yelled.

"I'm good. Just give me a minute," Violet shut the last closure and tightened the straps. "Okay, I'm ready to get out of here. I think my _underwear_ are wet now."

She was by no means a heavy girl, but a combination of added water weight and the fact that she did indeed weigh more than Beth made pulling Violet up a bit trickier.

"Damnit! Pull harder!" Rick grunted, his arms burning from exertion.

Daryl grit his teeth and pulled a bit harder, tightening his grip on the line. Their arms were already tired from hauling up Hershel's daughter. Violet tried to get a grip on the rocks lining the sinkhole, but her fingers slid off the damp surface. She could tell the two men were having difficulty. All she could do was dangle there like a limp ragdoll. The dirt walls made it impossible for her to help by grabbing on. Daryl reached in front of him to grasp a section of rope further away. Behind him, he could tell Rick was doing the same. Both of them were sweating from exhaustion. Finally, Glenn, Maggie, and Reese jumped in to help. As they took up positions, however, one of them mis-stepped, sliding on the leaves and twigs and falling to the ground. The fall jerked hard on the rope, enough to pull it from everyone's grasp.

"Aah!"

Violet let out a gasp of horror as she felt herself dropping. At the angle she was, she'd was on a one-way path to cracking her skull open on one of the rocks. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Shit!"

Daryl was the first to recover, lunging forward to grab the rope before it could be swallowed up by the hole. The line cut into his hands, but he merely stood and began to wrench Violet upwards on his own.

"This is takin' too damn long!" he snarled.

He gave the line another hard tug, winding the loose ends around his arms. Rick recovered and moved to help.

"Back off," Daryl snapped. "I almost got it."

Down below, Violet let out a hysterical giggle when she felt the line pull tight. She wasn't going to fall after all. She swung close enough to the side to push her boots against the dirt. It was enough leverage to push herself slightly upwards. The rope was cutting of the circulation to Daryl's forearms, and his palm burned where it had dug into his skin. He bore it with a few pained grunts until Violet's head appeared and she gripped the edge. The woman scrambled to crawl out and stood with an exhilarated grin.

"It worked!" she laughed, seeing Beth close to her father. "It worked perfectly!"

"I wouldn't say that. Damn near dropped ya back in because people were tryin' to be helpful," Daryl was sweating, panting for breath and covered in dirt from when the conga line had tripped. He looked extremely annoyed.

Violet frowned briefly at Daryl, but her smile returned full force a few seconds later as she strode right up to him and pecked him swiftly on the cheek. Daryl flinched away from her, but the woman either didn't notice or didn't care.

"That's the second time you saved my life," she said. "I'm pretty sure I owe you my soul now or something."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Once all of the "excitement" had died down, the group headed back to camp with the exception of Daryl. Upon hearing about the hog that had spooked Beth, he quickly retrieved his crossbow and stalked into the woods. The others wondered if he'd find it, assuming it existed in the first place, and hoped he'd not fall into the hole as well. Not that any of them thought him stupid, but if he wasn't back by nightfall he ran the risk all the same.

"Be careful out there," Rick cautioned. "We need you in one piece, remember that."

Daryl only nodded in reply. Violet and Beth needed to change from their sodden clothes, and so they went their separate ways. After hanging the wet ones and donning a clean pair of jeans and a warm green flannel shirt, Violet made her way to the area of the camp that was becoming so familiar to her. She held two articles of clothing in hand.

"I really am okay, Daddy."

Violet cracked a smile as she saw the old vet fussing over his daughter. He was there to keep an eye on T-Dog as usual, but by the look of things, the man's well-being wasn't a hot issue at the moment. The tent's occupants looked on in amusement at the scene.

"All the same. I'd be more comfortable if you didn't go into the woods again for a while."

"But it wasn't my fault," Beth protested. "That thing came out of nowhere!"

"You sure you saw a _hog_ out there?" T-Dog teased. "I'm not judgin', just saying no one will blame you if you actually think you saw something like say...Daryl's chupacabra."

"I didn't. I'm telling the truth."

"Please don't fight me on this," Hershel ignored them. "I'm just trying to keep you safe."

"I _was_ safe though, daddy! Up until then, we were all together. Nothing had happened because we kept close."

"I know sweetheart. That's the whole reason I let you go out in the first place. Just humor me this once, please."

Beth sighed. "Alright."

Violet finally felt it would be appropriate to speak. She stepped into their view.

"Hey there."

"Hey!" Beth greeted her with a smile. "I can't thank you enough for helping me out back there! I thought I was going to be stuck there."

"Reese came up with the idea too."

"In that case," Hershel cut in. "Can you send him my way when you see him next? I'd like to have a chat with that young man."

Something about the way he said it told her he'd be talking about more than just his gratitude for saving his daughter. It was the tone of someone who wanted to have a serious discussion. Likely the kind of talk everyone dreaded. Violet gave a tiny smirk.

"Sure, I'll do that." She held up one of the shirts in her hands. It was a large red sweater. She turned to Beth. "Anyway, I came by to give you this. You're still freezing, I bet. This'll help warm you up."

"I really am," Beth accepted the garment and pulled it over her head right away. "Thank you."

"No problem. Might be a little big though."

A "little big" was an understatement. The thing was practically swallowing the poor girl. It was to be expected, as the sweater had belonged to Victor. Oh well, at least it would keep her from freezing to death. She tried not to laugh.

"I don't mind. Thanks again."

Violet then approached Carol, who was watching in silence. She started a bit as Violet approached. The younger woman took in Carol's appearance, and saw the mended tear in the shirt she was wearing. She frowned.

"Hm. That's seen better days, huh?" she indicated the rip. Carol flushed in embarrassment, then sighed.

"It's always like this. I stitch it up and something happens to mess it up again. I wonder why I even bother sometimes."

"Women's clothes always seem to rip a lot more than men's. Or men just don't care."

Carol smiled at that.

"They certainly don't," she agreed. "What is that there?"

"For you," Violet said.

She unfolded the fabric and held it out to her. It was a deep blue blouse with quarter lengths sleeves. It was simple, but very pretty in her opinion. A lacy trim in the same color ran around the bottom and at the cuffs. Carol didn't reach for the article.

"Why?"

"Reese told me you helped him out a while back. I came over to give Beth some warm clothes, so he said I should bring it to you while I was at it."

"I can't take this from you. It's too...nice. I'll just ruin it."

"It's a lot warmer than the things I've seen you wearing," Violet reasoned. "And you're always wearing ah...plain things. Do you not like it or something?"

"It's not that. It _is_ very nice. I just..."

"I've only worn it once, if that's what you're worried about."

"No! Nothing like that!" Carol shook her head.

"Then what's wrong?"

"It's just...strange. That's all. I never really wear things like this because my husband never...well, he didn't like me having nice things."

Violet didn't fail to notice the past tense, but chose not to comment on it. Instead, she settled for raising an eyebrow and giving a sardonic;

"Sounds like a real charmer."

"Ed, he was...an incredibly disturbed man. It's terrible to say it but with all that he did, I'm actually...glad he's gone."

What was with everyone spilling their guts when she wasn't _actually_ asking? Violet didn't like it. It made her feel like they were expecting something from her, too, like they wanted to know all of her darkest secrets. That was why when she'd seen the scars on Daryl, she hadn't asked. She really didn't want to know, because there were things she wasn't quite ready for them to know about her. She wouldn't rise to the bait just yet.

But there was something in Carol's body language that spoke volumes, giving away much more than her words. She was skittish, quiet, and withdrawn. She didn't draw attention to herself and Violet only ever saw her hunching her shoulders, as if in shame. She definitely had a story to tell, but the explorer didn't really feel like she should be the one hearing it. She sighed, pressing the material into Carol's hands before walking away.

"It's only a shirt, anyhow. I have others."

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Nothing more to say this time. Things will start to pick back up next chapter as we find out what Shane was talking with Lori about in the woods. Til then!


	15. Storm Approaching

Author's Note: Oh god. Super-mega-facepalm, guys. I had meant to upload this a week ago. Well, I guess technically I did; it was in the document manager, I just failed to actually add it to the story. I fail at life. I have noticed an influx in followers for this story lately. Hello to you all, and I hope you'll find your time reading the story worthwhile.

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**Chapter Fifteen: Storm Approaching**

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When Violet returned to the tent later that evening to check on T-Dog, she was pleased to see Carol wearing the blouse. She caught the woman's eye and grinned.

"Blue looks good on her, doesn't it?" she slyly asked T-Dog.

"Sure does. Nice to see some color on that pale skin for once."

Carol squirmed uncomfortably, but it was easy to tell she was pleased. Before anyone could settle in for the night, however, movement on the edge of the camp alerted them. Taking up her sword cane, Violet cautiously moved towards the treeline. Glenn, who was on watch for the first half of the night, did the same. He had seen _something_, but couldn't make out much from where he'd sat. Both of them stood waiting with weapons in hand, ready to exterminate the threat once it emerged. A foot came into view beneath a low shrub.

"Daryl?" Carol called softly.

Sure enough, the man emerged seconds later, his face streaked with sweat and dirt. He looked exhausted and disgruntled, but it was impossible to miss the massive animal slung over his shoulders. His arms strained from the weight of the feral pig that had startled Beth into falling.

Glenn and Vivi gaped at the slain creature, long since gutted. The entrails had been tossed down into the bottom of the sinkhole, far away from any of them. The carcass was a grisly sight, but they were much more shocked by the fact that it was there at all.

"Well? Don't just stand there! This thing weighs a goddamn ton!"

Breaking from their stupor, Glenn and Vivi helped Daryl lower the hog from atop his shoulders and began hauling it toward the firepit.

"I can't believe you went back for it," Glenn huffed as they set the massive hog down.

"_I _can't believe you actually caught it," Violet said.

"Stupid animal walked right into my sight. Didn't take much to take it down."

"Did you have any trouble out there?" Violet asked.

"Nah. The woods're emptier'n a whiskey bottle in a bar trashcan," he answered. "It's weird though. You'd think there'd be _something _out there with the size of the group now."

"I noticed the same thing at the prison farm. After the city, we'd seen plenty of big crowds of walkers, but around three weeks ago, they just seemed to...vanish somewhere. Undead Migration?" Violet suggested.

"Don't say things like that," Glenn shuddered. "I don't like to think they'll be back in spring. Anyway, what are you gonna do with this thing?"

"I dunno. Smoke it, maybe. Make hog chops? Just figured it'd be a shame to let the thing go to waste."

"Whatever we do with it is sure to be good," Violet leaned closer to inspect the animal. "And if we do like you said and smoke it, we'll have some for winter."

"Not a bad idea," Daryl nodded his approval.

"Anyway, duty calls. Don't stay up too late, you two."

"Yes, ma'am." Glenn gave a mock salute as Violet returned to her post.

As soon as she neared, however, she was met with a nasty surprise. Rick and Shane were waiting there. Neither of them were smiling. She felt her heart drop into her stomach in dread. She cleared her throat and tried to play it cool.

"Perfect timing," Rick's tone was friendly, even if he looked grim. "We'd like to talk to you about something."

Cornered like that, Violet suddenly felt like a child being interrogated by her parents. The memory of seeing Shane out with Lori a few nights prior summoned itself to her mind.

"What is it?"

"Well, Shane has brought up a pretty good point in regards to the last supply run."

"We'd like to borrow some of your gear if you'll let us," Shane said. "We're going back to that store."

"What?" Alarm made her voice high-pitched. "Why?"

He had been there. He knew how dangerous it was. She didn't imagine they needed to go on another run so soon after such a haul. Her heart pounded fiercely as she wondered what he wanted with the place.  
"We might need to use the place later, but we need to clear it out. If we can find out who it is that's there—"

"But there could be a whole group there!" the woman protested. "Doing that is a_ bit_ suicidal, don't you think? And besides, we already went a few days ago! There's no way we went through everything already."

"There was only one gunman. If it was a bigger group, they would have been better armed," Rick reasoned. Violet frowned. Why was he going along with this? The idea was completely off the wall.

"Even so, doing that...clearing it out, that's no better than raiding. Imagine if someone came here and drove us out."

"We need access to a place like that," Rick said. "We need to know it's safe to go there."

"Why is this so important? There are other places we could go on the runs. There's no need to risk everyone just for that."

"It's because of my wife," Rick confessed.

Huh. Now that was new. It wasn't the answer she'd been expecting.

"Lori? What about her?"

"She's getting further along in her pregnancy. Sometimes she needs things on an urgent notice. That's why we need this place in particular."

"It's close by. We know where it is, and we know it's clear of walkers. Why take a risk someplace else when we already know about this one?" Shane outlined the reasons for her.

Violet stood back for a minute to think. She understood where they were coming from, she really did. A pregnant woman was a major draw on resources, a finicky timebomb. Lori would need a supply of medicine and clothes that would actually fit her changing figure. With winter approaching, it was not simply a matter of luxury, but of necessity. Without a functional hospital, it was vital for Lori to have access to things that would ease her pregnancy.

On the other hand, going back there was like walking into a bear's den with honey smeared on one's self. They already knew it was dangerous, walkers or no. The survivor who had shot T-Dog did so with extreme haste. It was doubtful that whoever was there would simply leave if asked nicely. And if there was a big group there, they would accomplish nothing but getting themselves killed. It was need versus reason, and there were very strong points either way.

"It's not my place to decide," Violet said at last.

"We'll be careful," Rick promised. "And we aren't risking anyone else."  
"Wait, you two are the only ones going?"

"Like Rick said. If it does turn ugly, we'd rather not risk anyone else," Shane answered.

"Can you really pull it off with just the two of you?"

"We worked in the same unit before all of this. We know what we're doing."

That's right. They had been deputies before everything. Friends and partners. Odds were they'd been in hostile situations with less than favorable numbers before. Things were different now, though. The world didn't work that way. Perhaps she ought to place a bit of faith in them, though. They'd run the group for quite a while before they'd even met. Finally, Violet relented in her questioning.

"So what is it you need?"

"Some food, if possible. We might be gone a couple of days. Basically, whatever it is you'd take on one of your expedition trips."

"Why? I mean, how would that be helpful?"

"We don't know what we're getting ourselves into, like ya said. If we get stuck someplace, say the roof, we wanna be able to bail at any time," Shane said. "I'm aware you might be less than inclined to help us out given how I've talked to you, but I should think you get where I'm comin' from by now."

"I do," the woman replied. "I don't _like_ any of it, but I get why you have to. You'd go whether I helped or not, I bet, so I don't really have a reason _not_ to help. Personal issues aside, this is something to take seriously."

"Thank you," Rick said. "I'm glad you understand."

"I'll get some things together for you. When do you plan on leaving?"

"First light," Shane said.

"I'll get it tonight then," Violet paused, another thought occurring to her. "Take the SUV. It's the most reliable vehicle here. Except maybe that motorcycle."

"What, Daryl's? That thing's louder than a rock concert."

"Definitely the SUV then."

"I appreciate it," Rick stuck his hand out for her to shake, which she accepted.

"Be careful out there. Trust me on this one, that place is bad news."

She'd finally grown to like it in the camp, which included its occupants.

Half of them, anyway.

She was suspicious of how cordial Shane was being, especially after overhearing him speaking with Lori. She doubted this was how the talk had gone when she'd quit listening in. But he was the one best suited to watching Rick's back...as far as she knew, anyway.

Of course, no one really knew what had gone down between them, and that the danger level of their plan really depended on whether or not Shane tried to do anything again. They hadn't been alone since then, and hadn't had any serious conversations without someone else there. Frankly, things were a lot easier when they got along, and Shane was determined to fix the broken bridge between them.

It had taken some time to get Rick to agree with him about going back to the S-Mart. Like Violet, the other deputy had been reluctant and said it was too dangerous. But thoughts of Lori's condition and what it would lead to were all it took to give the plan a solid ground to stand on. And so Rick had given in.

Truth be told, he was pretty convinced the baby was _his_, not Rick's.

That fact was bound to cause problems at some point. But for the moment, it was that little sneaking suspicion that made him willing to cooperate.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

No one else had a good feeling about the departure of the two deputies either. Though it was painfully early, everyone in camp was wide awake by the time Violet handed off the keys to the Escalade. The two Mute Rats were well aware of the fact that if the two did not return, they were without a vehicle.

No one had been left "in charge" while the pair of men were gone. No one seemed particularly eager to jump into that position, either. Violet looked to Reese, knowing that if everything _did_ fall apart, she could rely on him.

She decided that until the deputies returned, it would be wise to steer clear of everyone else to avoid tension. Though, truth be told, the biggest source of that was Shane, and he would be gone a while. But that meant it was back to the tent most of the time, save for when anyone decided to call on her. Reese didn't join her, instead staying with the rest of them.

She wasn't counting on someone encroaching on her self-imposed exile.

With the two leader figures absent, it seemed at least one person was inspired to some anarchy. T-Dog ignored the warnings to stay abed, feeling he was recovered enough to at least walk around. Violet gave him "the look" when she saw him there outside her tent.

"What are you doing?"

He settled in like he owned the place, taking a seat right next to her. He completely ignored her look and the way she seemed ready to chase him back to bed with a knife.

"I need you to be honest with me about something."

"Yes?" the woman gave a long-suffering sigh.

"It's about my arm,"

Dread pitted in her stomach. She knew this would happen sooner or later. T-Dog lifted his left hand and rolled his shoulder experimentally. When he tried to move his arm above his head, he only got about halfway before cringing in pain and lowering it again.

"I was afraid something like this would happen," Violet murmured.

She took hold of his elbow and prodded around his shoulder. The wound had been healing well enough. T-Dog had to take painkillers every now and then, but for the most part it had been tolerable. It would scar horribly, though, and there was still a chance of him getting an infection or ripping the wound open, even at this stage. Worst of all was that he'd probably never be able to lift that arm all the way up.

"So I was right then. My arm's fucked," the man observed.

"You still have some range of motion and you can use your hand. Are you having any trouble with sensations?"

"Yeah. I can't really feel much but pressure from the shoulder on. Be straight with me here. It's permanent, isn't it?"

"...Yes. Most likely."

"Well, shit."

"I'm so sorry," she answered somberly. "I wish I could have done more."

He saw her staring at his shoulder as if it had done something horrible to her. She worried her lower lip with her teeth and frowned deeply. He hadn't remembered much of the escape from the store, but had heard about it later on. The way she was looking at him now was almost like she had resigned herself to a failure.

"Hey, don't be like that. Between that and dying, I'd sooner give up _both_ arms. At least it isn't all useless," T-Dog tried to reassure her. "You did all you could. I appreciate you saving my sorry ass back there."

Violet managed a weak smile at that. It didn't keep her from feeling the guilt seeping into her. They sat in silence for quite a while, and Violet was about to drag him back to his spot when she spoke again, wanting his opinion on something.

"So what do you think about them going back?"

"I think Shane's blown a gasket. There's no good in going again. Dumbass is out for blood, that's all. Least, that's what I think."

"I kinda doubt he's that hotheaded..."

"And how well do you know him?" T-Dog asked.

She shrugged in return. She didn't, really. Not at all.

"Believe me when I say he is that bad. Guy's got more issues than the rest of us put together. That's saying something."

"You've got that right," Violet agreed with a snort. "My therapist would have gone nuts trying to sort out all the loose screws in that one."

Too late did she realize what she'd let slip. She looked at him frantically, hoping he'd missed the comment. Too late. The damage was done, and the look on his face told her what he was going to ask before he even opened his mouth.

"You were in therapy?" There it was. And here came the stinger. "What for?"

"I was, yeah. Reese too. That's how we met."

The man didn't miss the fact that she avoided his question. He gave her a look but she didn't even flinch.

"As for why, that's my business. Just like you and your secret name. Just saying, but 'T-Dog' is probably the most racist name ever," she tried to laugh it off.

"It's Theodore," the man said.

"Say what now?"

"My real name is Theodore Douglass. That's the secret."

He was waiting for some kind of reaction from her. The last time he'd told someone his real name, he'd been delirious from fever and bleeding out of a cut on his arm. The person he told was now dead. He shook his head at the eerie parallels between that time and the present one. Violet had also been there while he was bleeding out and delirious. He hoped she wouldn't meet the same fate as his last secret-keeper.

"Oh, really now?" Violet grinned at him. "That's very fascinating, but it'll take a lot more than that to get an answer out of me."

"Not fair," he replied.

"I think therapy's something a bit more serious than having an embarrassing name," she shot back.

"Shoulda known you were cracked," they heard Daryl as he approached. Violet stifled a groan. So now he knew too. As if he didn't have enough of a reason to treat her like dirt. But they'd called a truce, hadn't they? Would this change that?

Things just got better and better. His eyes locked onto her. She merely shrugged in reply to that.

"Aren't we all?" she countered. "What are you doing over here?"

"Came to ask ya what you plan to do now that Rick'n Shane are gone."

"What do you mean?" it was T-Dog who asked the question.

"You're getting too close," Daryl warned. "Best back offa her."

He wasn't talking about the man's proximity to Violet.

"What's it to you? I can't make friends?" he answered sarcastically. "Hah, you jealous or something, man?"

"If Rick doesn't come back, what makes you think they'll stick around?"

T-Dog froze. He hadn't thought of that possibility. Without a solid leader, things were sure to get messy and fall apart fast. No one present was looking to jump into the seat of leadership yet, but if something did happen, would there be a power struggle?

Violet clucked her tongue, annoyed that they were talking like she wasn't there.

"What the hell? Why would I just leave?" she snapped. "That's just dumb, not to mention suicidal."

Finally, the two men remembered she was there.

"I mean, goddamn. Haven't I done enough to prove that yet?"

It had been her idea to join the survivors in the first place. Rescinding that decision and bailing at the first brewing of trouble was cowardice. And where would she go, anyway? Not back to the prison farm, that was for sure. She'd gotten too used to everyone to return to the silence of before.

"You forget I can't go anywhere anyway. Not while they've got the SUV."

Honestly, neither man _really_ thought she'd leave. The woman had so far proven good to her word. Though they were small things that had proven that, Daryl didn't see her as bowing out. She had earned a bit of his respect, though he was loathe to admit it. Grudgingly, he would say she'd earned her place. Even though there wasn't much for her to do, her eagerness to help proved that much.

"I'm not going anywhere," Violet said.

He believed her.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The parking lot of the S-Mart was just as eerily quiet as it had been the first time. Knowing there was a gunman there made things even worse. It was sobering to know that, had they left without anything the last time, the damned alarm would never have gone off. They could have gone on like nothing happened and T-Dog would not have been hurt. The store's residents would never have known they were there. It was vital that they moved in silence. Without Violet or Hershel's aid, any injuries this time around could prove to be fatal.

"I sure hope you're right about this, Shane."

Rick moved ahead, gun drawn as he scanned the aisles.

"I am right about it, Rick. Trust me."

"I still think you're being way too cautious in regards to Reese and Violet."

"There's no such thing. You and I both know that. After that Randall kid, I thought you'd know that better than anyone."

"Damnit, Shane, you thought she had something to do with the ambush here before!" Rick exclaimed. "That isn't caution, that's just being pigheaded."

Yes, Shane would fully admit it. At first, he had entertained the wild idea that maybe the woman had known there'd be people waiting.

"I wasn't thinkin' right then, and you know it," Shane shot back.

"All the same. You felt enough about it to go to Lori, to try having her convince me that I brought dangerous people to the camp."

"Like I said, I wasn't in my right mind then."

"When's the last time you were? Back on the farm when you opened that barn? When you and I were beating each other senseless deciding what to do with Randall?"

The stress of the situation was definitely getting to him. Knowing how risky it was, and having his own bad feelings about it made him easy to agitate. He was willing to risk it if it meant helping his wife, but the chance of success seemed pretty small.

"You know me better than that!" Shane snapped. "You know I was only doing what I thought was right to protect the group. We've been through this too many times already."

"Then temper your goddamn temper! Your problem is you don't think, you just act. No matter how good your intentions are, you can't just do whatever you feel like doing."

"Man, why we doing this now?" Shane stopped walking to face the other deputy. "Why here?"

"Because I need you to think about these things while we're here. If either of us wants to see Lori and Carl again, we can't afford any screwups because we got too hasty."

Shane's face contorted in rage. So it all came to this, as always.

"I know you love them as much as I do. That's how we could walk away that time. That's why you've been more willing to compromise with me. I want to trust you again, Shane."

"So, what? You want me to prove it to you here? That I'm not leading you to your death?"

"All I want is for us to make it back," Rick answered.

They stared at one another for a long time after that, silent words exchanged. When it became almost stifling, they stood down. This was not the place to be arguing, not while there was a trigger-happy psychopath running around somewhere.

"Then we'd better get this over with," Shane said.

Their destination was the roof, and in order to get there they first needed a path. Going directly up the fire escape outside was just asking for disaster. They might end up climbing up directly in front of whoever the residents happened to be. Instead, they opted for the set of stairs by the "employees only" area. Thin metal slat with chipped white paint made up the staircase, and a sign next to it read "Rooftop Access. Maintenance Only." This was what they'd been looking for. Shane went first, Rick following closely behind with his gun drawn again. Their footsteps sounded deafening against the old metal, ringing out like bells in the darkened landing. The stairwell took a turn, and Rick moved to catch up to Shane's lead, he froze. A cold, hard cylinder was pressed right between his shoulder blades. He could hear breath on the back of his neck as a figure moved from the shadows.

"Well, well," the breath smelled vaguely fishy, like crackers and canned tuna. "What have we here?"

Rick didn't relinquish the grip on his gun. He moved his mouth to all out to Shane, but the metal in his back pressed harder.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you," the voice rasped. "Not unless you want a round of deer slug in you."

Rick closed his mouth, body tense, and he watched as Shane continued on, oblivious to the fact that he'd been left behind. The loud clinking footsteps drowned out the whispers of the figure.

He was alone now.

"Here's what you're going to do," the voice, obviously a male's, demanded. "You're going to follow your friend there up to the door. He's going to open it, and then I want you to train that pistol of yours on him."

"I don't think so," Rick hissed back. "Why don't you just lower your weapon and we'll have a civilized talk about this."

"Don't know if you've noticed, pal, but I'm the one with the bigger gun," and at this, the man twisted said gun so that the barrel dug in sharper. "You're in no position to argue with me. Now walk."

Rick had little choice but to obey. He wanted to turn around and shove his own gun in the man's face and tell him to stand down, but the shaky breaths behind him told him the man was on edge. He'd pull the trigger with no hesitation. He steeled himself and began to walk. The weapon pressed into his spine never once let up. It was sure to leave a bruise, but Rick's only thoughts were of ways to escape. Shane's steps slowed and the deputy turned to Rick.

"Here it is. You ready for this?"

The attacker was hidden, both by Rick's body and the darkness of the stairwell. The sheriff swallowed hard and gave what he hoped was a convincing smile. It came out more like a grimace, but that worked too.

"Ready when you are," he said.

Shane nodded, hand going to the knob as Rick did as asked and pointed his weapon at him. Shane froze at the cocking of the gun, and before anyone could react, he had his own gun raised and pointed at the man behind Rick. Said figure tensed, finger on the trigger.

"Didya really think I didn't hear you? Put your weapon down."

"No, you're gonna put down _yours,_" the man demanded, moving the barrel of the gun so that it pointed right at the back of Rick's head. "Or I unload this thing right into your friend's skull. Then I'll do the same to you .Don't think for a second that I'm bluffing. I'll splatter your fucking brains against that wall. Now drop it."

"Shane, just do as he says," Rick urged. He gave his companion a meaningful look, hoping he'd catch on to the fact that he was silently formulating a plan.

"_You_ shut your fucking mouth," the man nudged his head with the end of the gun. "Do it, gorilla."

Shane glared heatedly at the man, tempted to just squeeze the trigger and be done with it. But at this range, he'd hit Rick, too. Very reluctantly, and very slowly, he set his weapon at his feet and nudged it away from himself.

"That's it. Now put your hands up."

Shane complied, thinking of all the ways he'd like to dismember this piece of shit who'd snuck up on them.

"Now open the door. Only use one hand. Keep your other where I can see it!"

The door opened with a click, the knob turning easily. Shane gave it a light push, flooding the corridor with sunlight and allowing him to see their attacker. He was a young man, a few years younger than Daryl, perhaps. He had shaggy brown hair that fell to the tips of his ears. A few days' worth of stubble and dark circles suggested that he'd not taken care of himself properly in a while. He held a shotgun to Rick's head, gaze darting wildly back and forth from one man to the other.

"Alright," Rick breathed. "Now what?"

"Now you both are going to walk out there to the edge on the left. By the way, if you even _breathe_ funny, I'll make good on that promise about splattering the walls. The place could use a little redecorating."

The man stepped into the light, following the lip of the roof to the left, overlooking the parking lot. They could see the Escalade from where they stood. The man nervously wet his lips and finally put some distance between himself and the sheriff. The gun didn't lower, though.

"Now your weapon," he demanded. Rick was shocked at the man's scraggly, wild appearance, but complied and stood back at the edge with Shane.

"Alright. Here's what's going to happen now—"

"Hey!"

A sharp, stern shout cut the air, and their attention was drawn to three emerging figures, two men and one woman. The woman was the source of the voice. She spared them a glance, but her attention was focused on their attacker.

"Nash! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

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**End Notes: **

This chapter was kind of weird, wasn't it? It seemed to jump around a bit and for that I apologize. The next few will be more focused on singular events, and I'll try to avoid jumping from one group to the next if possible. This means little in the way of relationship developments, but bear with me. We _are_ getting there, but the events that occur in this arc have to pave the way for that first.

Thank you for reading, as always!


	16. Bird's Eye View

Author's Note: **Bleh. Just, bleh. I'm sorry for not updating this in months. I kind of lost heart for writing for a long while, and I must confess, I've not watched any of the newest season except for three episodes, though honestly that really doesn't effect this story as a whole. **

**I will, however say that I was actually pretty upset by T-Dog's fate. I think, in writing bits in this story focusing on him, in a way I felt like I'd grown attached to him. And let's face it, he's gotten more characterization in this story than he ever got on the show. As for how his fate will play out in this tale, we'll have to see. But anyway, here's a new chapter at last. **

**Note: Apologies for any errors I missed in editing. I was just so eager to finally get this chapter out that I may have missed some things. **

******-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-********o-o-o-o-o-o-**

**Chapter Sixteen: Bird's Eye View**

******-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

Rooftops seemed to be becoming a sort of recurring them for Rick. Before, with Merle, there'd been a standoff. And now again, tensions led to a stressful, dangerous situation. With the arrival of these three, they were boxed in. at their mercy, he and Shane could be killed at any moment.

Thankfully, none of the newcomers were pointing their weapons at them. The woman was short and stout, frayed dirty blonde hair falling about her face in tangles. Her companions were a tall man with the same dirty blonde hair and a slightly shorter Hispanic man. The former clutched a long-barreled rifle, while the latter carried a wooden bat studded with neat rows of nails. Rather than directing any of that ire at Rick and Shane, however, they looked more concerned with the man who held them at gunpoint.

"Nash!" the woman sounded incredulous. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Nash...now where had they heard that name before?

"Shut it, Heather! These two were sneaking around in the stairwell, so I figured I'd bring them up here for a lesson."

"Oh? And your 'lesson' just happened to involve hanging them from a rooftop and wasting bullets, did it?"

"They're outsiders, Heather! We have no idea what they're doing here!" Nash protested.

"Exactly. Give them half a chance to explain, will you? Killing people isn't what we do."

"Tch, fine. Have it your way. When they try snapping your neck, don't come crying to me."

The man, Nash, stepped away from them and moved toward the hostile woman. Said woman nodded before turning towards Rick and Shane. Hands on her hips, she was obviously trying to appear intimidating. To their credit, the men didn't jeer at her. Instead, the tension kept their jaws glued firmly shut.

"Now then, I think you should tell me who the hell you are, and what it is you were really doing."

Shane shot Rick a reproachful look. He didn't trust any of these people, and honestly, he didn't trust his friend to not spill the whole story. The whole situation was entirely too familiar to Rick, though he doubted it'd have the same outcome as the encounter with Violet. True to form, he lived up to Shane's expectations as he began to speak calmly.

"My name's Rick," Well, so much for that. Error number one. Shane's face fell as his fellow sheriff went on to introduce him as well. "This here's Shane Walsh. We came here because a friend of ours was hurt. We wanted to find out why."

Shane kept his own mouth shut. Never mind the fact that these four were hostile and armed to the teeth, until someone asked him directly he wasn't giving up so much as a syllable.

"Hurt how?"

"He was shot from someone on the roof. We came up here to see if maybe there were survivors. Obviously, that's true."

Even as he said it, he knew it sounded cheesy and unbelievable.

"You came all the way out here from god-knows, climbed up to a rooftop in a city gone to hell, fully knowin' that you could be killed by whoever was up here, all for the sake of 'why?'" The woman curled her lips into a derisive smirk. "I'm not sure if I should call you boys brave or suicidal."

She thumbed the grip of her handgun, just a small touch as if she was considering pulling it and blowing their brains out after all.

"How about you give me the real story?"

Oh yes, what a fine idea that was. Telling the truth was no better than crafting some farfetched yarn of an excuse. Either way was probably going to result in their deaths. He sighed.

"We should have listened to Violet," he muttered before he could stop himself.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

In an instant, Nash was back in his face, a fistful of shirt clutched in his hand. Shane moved to shove the man off, but the blonde with the rifle moved quicker, whacking him hard in the face with the butt of the gun. Shane found himself becoming very familiar with the business end.

"Don't move. Don't fucking move!" Nash grabbed up his shotgun from the ground so he could point it at Rick. "Now, what the fuck did you say?"

"...said we shoulda listened to a friend of ours. She didn't think coming out here was a good idea," Rick replied slowly. "She was definitely right ab out that."

"Violet!" Nash snapped. "You said Violet!"

He was shaking fiercely.

"Victor! Enough already!" the woman shouted. He ignored her. And in that moment, when the man turned to him with hate in his eyes, Rick realized why his name had been familiar. This was the one who'd been left behind, the third member of Violet's group. Their friend.

"Where is she?" Victor demanded of him.

"Just chill out!" the woman tried pulling him away. "It could be anyone named Violet! It's not necessarily your friend!"

"But it's not a common name, is it?" the blonde man spoke.  
"No, it's not," Victor replied. "Where is she?"

"She's safe," Rick responded carefully. "She and Reese both. They're safe in our camp."

He barely even had time to blink before the butt of Victor's shotgun came down hard on his head. The woman screamed something indecipherable at the man just before he turned on her and pulled the trigger. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Rick registered the enraged shouts and more shots as he drifted off into the blackness.

He came awake some time later with a splitting headache and a tight feeling in the side of his face. With a pained moan, Rick attempted to moved to rub the pain from his eyes, but his hands wouldn't move. Blinking, it took a few seconds to register that they were bound behind him with thick electrical tape. Rick let his head roll to the side, instantly regretting it as white-hot pain shot up his neck and made his vision blur with tears.

"Shane?" he croaked out, his voice sounding like misused sandpaper against glass.

"Over here," came the reply.

Visual field spinning, Rick moved his head up until he could clearly see his friend in his sights. Shane was seated a few feet away, propped up in a hastily cobbled together desk chair from the S-Mart's sparse furniture section. His hands were bound behind him with tape as well. Rick struggled against his bindings, not making any progress. If he could find the pack that Violet had given them, and got to the multi-tool inside...

"Where'd those others go?"

"Gone. Nash or whatever his name is shot that woman. The blonde guy got shot trying to fight him. I dunno if he's dead, but he ran off, and who knows about the other guy? Knocked me out before I could find out. That little bastard took our stuff while you were out cold," Shane's words dashed Rick's idea to bits. "Everything. Our guns, the supplies, the map."

Shit. Rick felt his heart lurch as Shane said those last two words. If the map was gone, that meant Victor would find the route Shane had marked so they wouldn't get lost on the way back to the camp. They'd practically left a trail of breadcrumbs for him. Shane stared hard at his friend, the sweat and grime and blood on his face contrasting hauntingly against the whites of his eyes.

"We fucked up."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Something was wrong.

He wasn't sure how he knew, but Daryl felt an itching suspicion that something had gone terribly bad with Rick and Shane. Perhaps it was the fact that they'd been gone for two days and there was no indication of when they'd return. Perhaps it was the complete lack of walker sightings or incidents lately, as if they were all migrating to another location. Or maybe it was just his own instincts as a hunter again, telling him there was something off.

Violet seemed to share his paranoia, and if her restlessness was any indication, she was starting to feel like they should act in some way. He watched as she approached him on that third afternoon, questions and worry clear on her face.

"What's up, city girl?"

"I think you already know," she replied, deciding to skip any nonsense.

"Rick an' Shane," he guessed.

"Rick and Shane," Violet echoed. "It's been two days. Shouldn't we have at least heard from them by now?"

"It's only two days. Maybe they hit a goldmine. Even if they were in trouble, there's no way they could contact us."

Violet shook her head.

"They had a walkie. It was in the pack of stuff I gave them."

Well, there went that theory.

"So? If they were in trouble we'd have heard," Daryl tried to refute the possibility of danger.

"But isn't it like Rick...no, like both of them to want to check in on us? I mean with Lori and the baby and all..."

Daryl considered this. She had a major point there. As much as he didn't want it to be the case, he knew his instincts had to be right. And Violet's were apparently pretty strong too.

"Maybe we should try to contact them-"

"No way," Daryl killed her thought before she could fully voice it. "After Shane almost got us killed at that jailhouse, d'ya really wanna risk that?"

"...I guess you're right," Violet sighed. "But what else can we do? I hate the idea of them being in trouble while we're all just sitting here with our thumbs up our asses. "

He knew what she was feeling, of course. She wasn't the only one. The whole group was anxious about the journey the two men had insisted on making, but it wasn't like they could just drop everything and go to the store on a rescue bid. The walkie talkie would be risky too, if the men happened to be in walker territory or worse—someone _else's_ territory. Then again, he'd been to the store. Whoever was there was already aware of their existence, and could probably even recognize the vehicle. The space was claimed and walker-free. What difference would a blip over a walkie talkie really make at this point?

"Tell ya what," he said at last. "We'll give 'em till noon tomorrow. If we haven't heard anything by then, we'll radio them. And if we don't hear anything back, I'll go check things out."

"But that would put the camp at risk. If something happens while you're gone, what are we supposed to do?" Violet sounded genuinely panicked.

"You'll have to look out for yourself, then. You and your little friend can leave. I dunno, and I don' really care. Ain't gonna happen anyway."

"But what if it does? And what if none of you come back? Then what? What to do about Lori? And T-Dog..."

"Jesus, woman, you're too damn paranoid. It ain't even gonna come to that. You just wait, in a few minutes we'll hear from those idiots and it'll be pointless."

"I guess," the woman finally conceded. "I shouldn't think about crap like that, huh?"

Daryl shook his head and turned away from her. Why the hell did she see the need to bring up things like that? If something that bad did happen, they'd be screwed. Simple as that. He hadn't even thought about the worst-case scenario, so intent was he in convincing himself that once, must once, maybe things could go off without a hitch. Even so, no once had Violet made mention of leaving on her own while thinking about her hypothetical disasters. She was thinking about the group as a whole. Daryl definitely noticed that.

"Well," Violet spoke again. "I should probably get back to-"

Radio static cut off whatever she was about to say. Startled, she unclipped the walkie talkie from the waistband of her jeans, the match to the one Rick and Shane had, and depressed the button on top.

"I can't hear you. Say again? Rick? Shane? Are you hurt?"

A crackling, inaudible voice was her answer.

"I can't hear you," she repeated. "Hold on."

she fiddled with the device for a moment and gradually the white noise began to fade.

"That should do it," she spoke into the box again. "are you alright? Are you n trouble?"

"Oh, no trouble at all."

The voice, no longer distorted by static, made Violet's hair stand on end. Her skin prickled with goosebumps and the skin of her scalp felt like it was crawling. That voice, that nonchalant and mildly arrogant tone was all too familiar to her.

"Who the hell is this?" she shouted. "Rick? Shane?"

"It's so nice to hear your voice again, Vi."

She felt sick, like she'd swallowed a massive bubble of hot air. That was definitely not either of the men.

"Who the fuck?" Daryl barked. She turned to him wide-eyed and shocked.

"That was...it was Victor."


	17. Drawing Parallels

**Author's Note: **Hey, there. Yes, indeed, I am posting another chapter and it hasn't been months this time! I've another in the works as well, so you can expect that likely within a few days. This chapter you'll see what fate awaits Rick and Shane, as well as some bonding between Daryl and Vivi. Yes, you read that right. They're finally being cordial to one another. We'll see romance in this story yet!

******-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-********o-o-o-o-o-o-**

**Chapter Seventeen: Drawing Parallels**

******-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

"Shit," Rick muttered. "Shit, shit, shit!"

"Cussin' ain't gonna get us outta here, Rick."

"How long ago did that little rat leave?" the sheriff asked frantically, ignoring Shane. "How long's it been?"

"Hard to say. Can't have been that long, but my perception of time ain't that great," Shane replied, eerily calm. "He'll have taken the car back though. No doubt about that."

"How can you be so relaxed about all this?" Rick spat incredulously. "You realize what'll happen when he gets to the camp, don't you?"

"I know dammit! I know! But we aren't getting' outta here if we don't chill out and think. I wanna protect Lori just as much as you do, but if we don't think about this we ain't even gonna make it out!"

"Well it's a little late for that now! You didn't wanna do any thinkin' at all when we came here, and _now_ you wanna start hatchin' plans? It's too late for that, Shane!"

"Maybe not, friend," came a new voice.

In the open doorway stood the blond man from before. He'd obviously been in some sort of recent scuffle. His lip had been split, his left eye was swollen, and blood dripped steadily from a wound on his right arm. It didn't look like a bite but a bullet wound, the hole deep and raw. The man stepped forward, a long knife gleaming in his other hand. He headed for Rick, which needless to say, sent a pretty bad message. Rick struggled while Shane swore and shouted threats at the man. Rick braced himself for the sharp sting that would be followed by a few minutes of pain and intense bleeding before he'd finally expire. Then he'd return after a while as one of those brainless flesh-eaters. At least he was bound to the hair and so he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone. Did this man count on that fact?

None of these things came to pass. Instead, a painful twinge ran up his arms as the blood flow returned to normal. The tape had been cut. Rick opened his eyes and glared up at the blond in confusion. Hadn't he come to kill them? Or maybe he was hoping on a dramatic fight to the death?

"What the hell? Though you stood with that Nash guy?"

"Nash?" the man spat the name as if it were a curse, then bent to cut the tape around Rick's legs. "That little fucker is nuts. I don't know what pushed him over the edge, but he's fuckin' snapped."

"Where is he now? And why are you letting me out?"

"Who knows where he is? But that's exactly why I'm lettin' you go," he continued to saw away at the tape, breathing labored and quick. "You two gotta get the hell out of here."

Realizing that the man would have stabbed him by then if he truly intended to harm them, Rick allowed himself to calm down.

"So who are you then?"

"Scott Thail," the man answered. "Heather is..._was_ my sister. That son of a bitch shot her. Miguel—the other guy, he tried to take Nash out and he shot him next. I jumped him, we roughed each other up. He got me pretty good so I looked for shelter. That must've been when he tied you guys up."

That explained the man's wounds perfectly, assuming he was telling the truth.

"Why the hell should we believe you?" Shane sneered.

"Because I'm letting you out."

"Yeah, but then what?"

"You really don't get it, do you?" Scott said as he finished cutting the last of the tape. "That son of a bitch _destroyed_ us. He ruined _everything_. My sister's dead because of him! So if you want to keep that shithead from hurting your people you can be damn sure I want to help. If I was gonna kill you, I'd have had plenty of time to do it already. I don't do that game-playing shit. I prefer a direct approach."

The desperation on his face was real enough, and there was no faking the fury.

"You have any idea how long he's been gone? Or what happened after that?" Rick asked.

"Been gone about an hour now. He was bleeding pretty bad when he went though, you can count on that. The fucker mighta gotten me, but I cut him up real nice while I had the chance. You shoulda seen his face. Tore right through it like it was tissue paper, I'll tell you that."

The man sounded far too proud about that last statement.

"He's not gonna go far with a wound like that. Not without patchin' himself up first."

"Wait," Rick said. "You mean he's still here?"

"Yeah. He was probably hoping to use you as bait for your people."

"That's why he didn't just kill us," Shane realized. "But how much damage can he do? He's just one guy."

Scott scoffed, holding up his injured arm as if to prove a point.

"He killed two people in just a few seconds, almost got a third. He knows the territory, got the jump on you two when you first got here, and survived for who knows how long before our group found him in the streets. You'd be surprised how far a man can go when he's desperate."

"So what should we do?" Rick inquired.

"I can get you two out. I can't shoot with my arm like this, but I can keep you out of sight," Scott answered as he moved to cut Shane's bindings. "Then I'll stay here, distract Nash, and you'll never have to think about this again."

"I've got a better idea," Shane announced as soon as he was free.

"Hm?"

Scott turned his face up to acknowledge the man, only to receive a sharp blow to the side of the head. He fell to the floor in a heap, gasping and spitting blood.

"Shane! What the fuck?" Rick shouted.

"You really believe that bullshit?" Shane panted due to the flood of adrenaline to his system. Scott turned his head just enough so that he could look at Shane.

"I helped you," he wheezed.

Shane took up the fallen knife, holding it to the man's throat with a look of cold fury.

"Shane," Rick pleaded. "Don't. He isn't like Randall. He set us free. He helped us. We wouldn't have a chance if he hadn't!"

"Better to do this before he gets it in his head that it'd be smarter for us to die," Shane declared.

"No! Once you kill someone, it gets in you, gets in the blood. _If_ you let it. Don't be that guy, Shane," Rick insisted. The faces of Otis and Randall swam to the forefront of his mind. Shane had come lose to going over the edge. If he fell now, how far would he keep going? If he killed Scott, that just might be the final push, and he'd become like Nash apparently had.

"I know!" Shane roared. He took several deep breaths before lowering his voice. "I know. Which is why I ain't gonna kill ya."

He let the knife fall to the floor again and he stood, striding to the door in a few quick movements. He cast one last hateful glance in Scott's direction before gripping Rick's shoulder.

"Come on. Let's get the hell out of here."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"That was...it was Victor."

Violet let the walkie fall from her slackened grip and hit the dirt. She never thought he'd hear that voice again.

"Vi?" the voice crackled from the fallen device. "You still there?"

Daryl snatched up the box as Violet began to hyperventilate, her eyes darting around as if Victor would lunge from one of the bushes at any second.

"You have to talk to him," he urged, forcing the box back between her fingers. "Find out what's going on."

Daryl's voice seemed to bring her back to her senses, and she accepted the item with shaking fingers.

"Yeah, I'm still here," she said, voice trembling.

"You seem to be well," Victor answered. "That's good. I was worried about you. The way you took off like that..."

The woman winced at his words and became even more distraught when he spoke again.

"You didn't sound all that happy to hear from me though. Forgot all about me, did you?"

"What? I didn't—I thought you were dead! What was I supposed to do?"

"Hey now," Victor spoke soothingly into the device. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just wanted to see how you'd react. I'm sorry, Vi."

Violet let the white noise crackle, too stunned to answer him again. It was as if she'd shut down. Daryl quickly swiped the walkie from her hands.

"Listen here, ya little shit. I don't know what you did to get that damn walkie talkie, but if you don't' get Rick or Shane on, you'll fuckin regret it."

"What? Those two-bit cops?" Victor's voice suddenly sounded a lot less friendly, and his laugh in reply sounded sickening to Violet's ears. "I'm afraid I can't do that. They're a bit...tied up at the moment."

The woman balked at what was, no doubt, a pun, and a terrible one at that. There was something in her former companion's voice that chilled her to the bone. She didn't know what do say or do. She only knew that this was not the man she'd known, but the killer he'd become at their parting. The man she'd known was long gone. She looked to Daryl, hoping he'd know what to do. He took in the panic and fear in her eyes, whispered 'trust me,' and depressed the button before yanking her arm so that she elicited a shocked gasp.

"Alright," he said, and drew his knife. Violet let out another gasp of horror audible to Victor. "You won't put them on? I have your friend here. I can take some time cutting her up for you. I know where you're at. I'll bring her right to ya when I'm done."

"That so?" they could hear the derisive mirth in Victor's voice. "It'd serve her right. You'd be doing me a favor."

"What?" Violet's voice was a muted whimper.

"Only kidding," Victor replied, and laughed. "Oh, but don't worry too much about your friends."

He knew they were out. He'd seen Rick and Shane, newly freed, making their way across the parking lot to the Escalade.

"You'll be seeing them soon enough."

The crackling seemed to grow louder as Victor switched off the walkie talkie. He wasn't speaking through anymore, and as soon as that became apparent, Daryl released Violet. He rounded on her with a rapid apology.

"You should know I wasn't really gonna—"

"I know," Violet cut him off. "You wanted to get a reaction from him. I trust you. I know you'd never do...that."

Daryl nodded, feeling oddly relieved.

"What do you think he meant we'd be 'seeing them soon?'" Violet went on.

"He knows where we are."

"Do you think he killed them?" Violet's voice was still a quavering whisper.

"Nah. He probably was just tryin' to get a reaction out of us, same as we did to him. All the same, we gotta be prepared."

"How? I mean, what can we do?"

"First things first. We gotta tell everyone what's going on."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Night fell, and there was no sign of anyone or anything out of the ordinary. Such a fact was a strong mix of worrying and relieving.

The group was informed of the basics: Rick and Shane had been caught, obviously. The man who was responsible was someone Violet and Reese knew, and he somehow knew their location. The logical conclusion was that he would be heading their way. But that was where their knowledge ended.

Whether he was working alone or with a larger group, they had no way of knowing. And so it was decided that someone needed to be on watch at all times.

Violet kept the first watch for several hours, not one moving from the spot even as the cold night air started creeping through the seems of her coat. A glance across the amp told her that she was not the only one freezing her butt off. The remainder of the group remained huddled fairly close together. Though it was pitch black out and it would be safer and warmer in the tents, no one was inside. The collective anxiety about Victor's ominous words kept them as insomniacs. Poor Lori had nearly had a breakdown, but not even her son's pleading could get her to settle down for some rest.

Violet hugged herself tighter and breathed onto her hands. Soon, it would be time to switch watchmen, but that was no reason to get sloppy. Her eyes constantly scanned the trees, the road visible through them, and everything in between. It was a good way to keep from panicking about the situation.

She heard Daryl before she saw him. At first she thought it might be a lone walker, but Daryl's footsteps were too precise to be one. His boots crunched on the fallen leaves as he stalked out of the treeline, finished with his patrol. She briefly glanced at him as he climbed the tree to take her place.

"Didn't find anything, then?"

"Nah. But it's better to be safe than sorry," Daryl answered. "You're free to go now, ya know."

Violet shrugged, having made no move to leave the tree. The perch was little more than a plank of wood nailed across two heavy branches, a precarious thing. She carefully shifted to one side so Daryl could have some room.

"I think I'll stick around here a little bit. The old air helps...well, it keeps my mind clear."

"If ya say so. What's runnin' through your mind that needs clearin' anyhow?"

"Oh, you know. What else?" Violet returned. "I've tried to think about other things but I just can't. This whole thing's a big mess."

"What else ya been thinking about then?"

"What we need to do now. That is, if they don't make it back. I'm really worried about how Lori is going to handle it. Hell, I'd be worried even if Rick and Shane weren't out in Hellville. It's this cold already just in fall, how's she going to handle the winter ahead?"

"She ain't yours to worry about. Unless ya'll had some kinda secret love affair we don't know about?"

It took Violet a good, long moment to realize that Daryl was making a joke. Whether it was an attempt to distract her, or if he was really that tactless, the suddenness of it made her have to slap a hand over her teeth to keep from laughing.

"No," she said, unexpected amusement in her voice. "That's not it. She's not really my type, you know?"

Daryl shrugged. "It's hell out here. Slim pickings and all. No one would blame you."

"No!" Violet playfully slapped at his arm, noticing when he flinched away instantly. She murmured an apology, realizing she'd triggered some kind of nerve. The mood was instantly sober again.

"It's probably a bad time. And it's not really any of my business," Violet said softly. "But why do you cringe when people touch you?"

"That ain't a story for tonight, girl. 'Sides, ya got a few secrets you ain't so keen on sharing yourself, don't ya?"

"I do," Violet confessed. "It's stupid. I don't even know why it matters anymore, or why I've been keeping it from everyone..."

Daryl tensed as Violet sat straight up and looked him right in the eye. He had a feeling he knew what was coming, and he didn't like it.

"I know I said I wouldn't pry. But you flinched when I kissed you on the cheek, too. And when you needed stitches, you looked like you'd rather get turned into puppy chow than have someone touch you. And it's not just me. You flinch away from anyone who comes close to touching you. I saw the scars, Daryl._ Something_ happened to you. You don't have to tell me, but if you want to I'm willing to listen."

"Why are ya even bringing this up?"

Violet hesitated before answering.

"Because I'm going crazy here. Because I don't want to talk about what could have happened to those two. And I figured I should try to get to know the guy who's saved my ass a few times."

He just stared at her for a while, not even a trace of an answer forming. She gave up and they sat in silence for so long that Violet finally turned away and moved to leave the tree. When Daryl finally spoke, it startled her so that she nearly fell from the perch.

"To make a long story short, my ma was a careless bitch and my old man was even worse. He weren't too kind to me or Merle. Well, he was a lil' better to Merle, maybe. When the bastard wasn't drinkin' or ignoring us, he was beatin' me and Merle. Always bitchin' about how useless we were or how much he hated our ma and how dumb she was for gettin' herself killed in a fire. Guess he figured that was our fault and took it out on us."

He turned his bare arm over in the moonlight, a few particularly prominent scars visible on his skin.

"This one's from one of my ma's cigarettes," he said, pointing to a scarred, shiny circle on his wrist. He pointed to another one. "This one's from a whiskey bottle. This one's from—"

"Stop."

Violet gently grasped his hands in her own. "It's okay. You don't have to say it. I'm sorry for asking you."

She let go of him and let her own hands fall into her lap. She studied her fingertips with feigned interest, and silence ruled between them yet again.

"So what about you?" Daryl spoke again.

"Hm?"

"You mentioned therapy. That's code for 'fucked in the head,' ain't it?"

"So you want to swap secrets? Fair enough, I guess. It's not like your story, that's for sure."

"Don't mean it can't be shared."

"Well, it's..." Violet sighed heavily. "I haven't really talked about this outside of sessions. It was because of my mom's boyfriend."

Daryl didn't say anything, waiting to hear what she had to say.

"He was abusive," Violet said, and at the expression that said he didn't quite believe her, she hastily clarified. "Never to me. For some reason, he focused completely on my mom. And mom, she never tried to do anything about it. I don't know if she was just scared of him, or if she really thought he loved her and he could change or what, but she was spending so much time with him. He started forbidding her from seeing me once I graduated high school. She spent _years_ with that shitstain. One day, just after I started college, I got mad, called her out for how stupid she was being. I...told her to choose. Him or me."

"What'd she say?"

"She couldn't pick. She didn't want to lose me, but she wouldn't leave him. So we started meeting in secret when he wasn't home. I kept trying to tell her to go to the cops, or to pack up and move in with me anything to get her away from him, but she didn't listen. She didn't want my help."

"Why didn't ya go to the cops yourself?"

"I did. They said that without solid evidence or testimony from my mom there was nothing they could do. I couldn't think of anything else to do for her. I went on a grocery run for her one night. I had no idea he would be home and when I got there, he got mad."

Daryl could see that Violet was upsetting herself. He tried to steer the conversation on to something else.

"Ya don't have to keep going," he said.

Violet shook her head with ferocity. She wasn't going to stop.

"We argued," she went on. "When it started to get out of control, my mom got involved too. There was so much yelling that I can't even remember anything we said. And my mom's boyfriend he...had a gun. The second I saw it, mom told me to run, so I did. Then I heard the gunshot, but I just kept going.

Violet took a deep breath, air shuddering in her lungs as she fought to stay calm. Her tongue felt like it was made of wood.

"He killed her. The paramedics said she bled out within seconds. But if I'd stayed, if I'd only _tried_ to help, maybe she would have had a chance. That's what I kept telling myself. And the damn news article about it. They acted like it was nothing at all."

She remembered the article as if she'd just read it. She could practically _feel _the rough, gray paper beneath her fingers, could see the printed lines and the cold, detached way it had referred to the incident.

_A city grocer was found shot to death in her Capitol Hill home Thursday._

_Preliminary indications suggested 42-year-old Samantha Marielle Wilkens was the victim of domestic abuse. On the night of the incident, she and her boyfriend Peter Mabin argued, her daughter said. The argument escalated and the victim's daughter left the area when the situation became violent, police said. Mabin was later arrested after attempting to flee the scene, and a hearing is expected to take place within six weeks._

_Her daughter, Violet Wilkens, 18, later found her face down on the floor in the home and called police after unsuccessfully attempting revival._

_Reports state that the woman had been shot once and the house was in disarray. Upon interview, neighbors stated that they heard portions of the argument and that it was a common occurrence._

It had been lain out clear as daylight, her failure. She had torn the article from the paper, raked her eyes over the words again and again until the letters blurred together and no longer made sense. Then she had ripped it asunder. How could they be so curt and clinical about it? How, when her heart had broken in the face of her failure?

"No way you coulda helped," Daryl brought her out of her memory. "The fuck woulda shot you too."

"That's what my therapist said," Violet agreed. "Called what I was feeling 'survivor's guilt.' That's where I met Reese. He was going through the same thing because of his sister. We met Victor at the same place, but he was there for something else."

"So that's why you flipped out when T-Dog got shot," Daryl commented.

"Yeah," Violet said. "Like I said, that stuff doesn't even matter anymore. I'm here now. There's no point in thinking about it. The asshole probably got torn apart when this all started. At least I have that, I guess."

They allowed each other's story to sink in. Both origins explained a lot, and both seemed to feel a new-found understanding. Violet had stopped shaking at that point and became still, returning to surveying their surroundings. Daryl observed her profile for a moment before breaking the lull.

"Why'd ya keep goin? When I said you could stop."

"Because I want you to trust me," Violet answered. "And as an apology for bringing up the topic in the first place, I guess. I wasn't trying to make you hurt. I just didn't want to think about what lies ahead."

"I get that," Daryl said.

"I'd never hurt you, Daryl."

He looked to her, with all her sincerity and contrition. She looked exhausted and haunted, like she was wishing she didn't have to deal with any of this. He considered her a moment longer, trying to decide whether to believe her or not. He settled for a non-commital shrug.

"We'll have to see about that," he conceded. "Now, what where ya saying about Lori?"

Violet was robbed of her chance to answer, because a pair of headlights had just appeared on the road visible through the trees, and they were rapidly approaching.

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**End Notes: **This came out much easier than I thought it would. I had written about three different versions of the Daryl/Vivi conversation, trying to decide how it should go, and in the end this came out but it didn't sound as cheesy as I feared it would. I know there are many stories where the female lead is damaged in some way emotionally, and that might be a bit overdone, but honestly I don't really read many Walking Dead fics so I'm kinda just doing my own thing. I didn't intend for her history to become something _huge_, but it does provide her with a major aversion to guns, which obviously is not a good thing for her.

Many different layers were introduced in this chapter, all of which will be addressed at some point. But for now, let's see how this plotline plays out, shall we?


End file.
